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A Vegas Thing She loves the circus of it/like her life/the spinning wheel of fathers & mothers/who could it be? She hits the Hard Rock, pulls the guitar handle of the Hendrix-are-you-experienced? slots. Hell, yeah, she thinks, & knows Jimi is her real father since she was born on his birthday, day of electrifying excitement it says in the astrology books. She loves rootless Vegas, her mothers the hookers with hard tans, the whitetrash easterners with full clevelands (white shirt/ white shoes) are definitely her fathers, their bellies & ties jiggling seductively—she’s waiting to be electrified/sits on the lap of the first leather-y guy she can find/eats some guitar-shaped waffles with him after sex/looks better than he fucks/fucks like he’s ½ asleep/ could be the heroin/but she was looking for hard rock/a vegas thing. 59 BeattyPGS:Layout 1 2/5/08 8:28 PM Page 59 ...

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