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Tom Waits - "Pony"

Many of you won’t be interested in this story, others might, perhaps.
But bringing home a totally drunk friend, trying to convince him that at this hour biking in the pouring rain sent from above isn’t a good idea, I find to be a very satisfying challenge.
Especially because I was just as drunk as he was: but I had a car, he had a bike, and after seven license suspensions he’ll never be able to drive a car for the rest of his life.
He wanted nothing to do with my idea: “I’m biking home,” he tells me.
In the end, we reached a compromise.
He would take his bike to his ex-wife’s house—just two kilometers from where we’d been drinking heavily—and then I would drive him home.
Too bad I had not the faintest idea where the hell that woman lived.

I followed him up to a certain point: then he just vanished into the downpour.
Fuck!
I circled the block forty times: until he popped out in front of me, hitchhiking.
Pissed off, soaked like a porn star in heat: he said every curse in the book!

Why this story?
Because once I brought him home, I didn’t remember where I was—just two hundred meters from my own place.
It was my old Toyota Aygo that found the way home! lui: sapere: punto: volte: calore:
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There is this man under this sprawling umbrella, inside a faded photo that was once black and white, while now it is only light gray and dark gray. He is alone, there is no one on the dirt road, and he, in his black overcoat and hands in his pockets… more
Track 07 - Pony