augury doggerel

Saturday, March 01, 2003


As I walk in, the first man in the nation ski jumps on the corner TV and the addled cook calls me Michael. The American couple at a table say, "Oh, there he is," as if they've been hoping all week to see me. I shake hands with two locals at the bar and settle in to write with my back to the TV, but Bwana comes steaming out of the dark with tales of job-hunting and dread. The announcer screams, "Adam, we love you!" Adam, selling chocolate in the commercial that follows, is become Nancy Greene with a hairy lip.


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