Fiction
Spring 1966
House of the Blues
Walking the Pont Neuf I walked past old Vert Galant’s statue all slimy green wet in the rain–but he’s brass and won’t get warped like a guitar will, or melt, […]
Fiction
Autumn 1964
My Song, “Sour Grapes”
Oh yes, I was on the legal side of the law for a change. Picking grapes is about the one thing in France you don’t need a work permit for. […]