Let Us Not Forget

In the old neighborhood, in the early nineties, Allen Ginsberg sat at the end of Seafood Mama's bar as I walked in one evening.  He sat near the kitchen, amid the smoke-haze and unending jazz, waiting to go on stage at Cinema 21 across the street.

I nodded in his direction.    I wanted to go over and speak to him, but he looked like he was rehearsing his lines and didn't want to be bothered at the time.


TS