Tom was perched at the bar of an establishment known as The Zugzwang. Over his shoulder was a has been saint, pacing, searching the floor for where it all went wrong. Beside them was the piano, his tardive dyskinesia was tough to ignore, so too was his sour breadth that was most likely a result of gum disease from brushing his keys too hard. A retired madame from 8th avenue stirred her sorrows in a glass in front of the circus tent. The circus was run by a chimp who wore a lab coat, the road show’s main act was a string quartet of cockroaches who had been on the road for 20 years too long. Lord Buckley bubbled from the gramophone while the meter ticked over at the Park n’ Ride Rat Trap on top of the bar. The counter was covered in musings along with a sketch done by a Hopper who went by Ed. Tom’s admiration for his surroundings were packed away with the rest of his emotions in a chest that he stored at his feet. He was surrounded by chaos… He was so happy…

SHEZ PROVOKE EVOKE INVOKE