Lamente el prostitute

Smoking alone against the side of Benito's taco stand. He hits up a transvestite for three more faggs, and a bump of speed, prior to his nightly stroll to the Formosa Cafe. They call him 'Kid Sunflower'. Tonight it's a Doctor. Tomorrow a Jew. Everything they give him was never brand new. His chin is of granite, and his bare chest their shrine. His pants hang, tossed upon chair backs, antique and fine. Drinking Gray Goose, he nods at a prospect, before kissing his date. The brushing of his lips against the neck of midnight, says "no rebate". Bending both ways, pays for his days. Lonely at a motel window on Normandy. After love than a shower, he sees an envelope with his name big in teal. Unlicked, it easily opens and shows him the faces folded with their dates. Accompanying the smells and textures of a million steadilly increasing fingerprints.