I walked up the steps to the new spot in town. Security opened the door with a flourish, ‘hello, sir’. Concrete, copper, neon. There’s gonna be a *lot* of sauerkraut, I mused. A lone saxophone posed a series of questions I was too tired to answer. Elsewhere, England were blasting 3 past Senegal in a torture pageant where deviation from the rules could result in the wrong kind of penalty. I asked myself why I was here…it’s for the arco and the pizzicato, sighed the dreamer within. I’m here only for the dollar bill, said the hustler getting fat on chips and hazies – Elvis ’77. I’m here to dub out Dusty while she lies about choosing a man’s tie. I don’t care if you want me, I’m yours right now. The cold from the window fingered my neck. I pressed record and lined up another one. Security is a Bond man, wants him some JB. Then Al Green sings: something is bothering me, something kinda worrying me, whatever it is, I can’t leave it alone…