The Park-Bench



It used to be that in the old days before the Moral Police took over the City, you could sit here on Poet’s Walk, light up a long Cuban Montecristo and ride over the Rainbow.

I have no idea where you picked up this stuff about Shūnyam and such.

But if I were you, I would lie down right here on this park-bench and breathe quietly until the feeling goes away.