A Following

 the phone rang at 1:30 a.
m.

 and it was a man from Denver:

 "Chinaski, you got a following in
 Denver.
.
.
"
 "yeah?"
 "yeah, I got a magazine and I want some
 poems from you.
.
.
"
 "FUCK YOU, CHINASKI!" I heard a voice
 in the background.
.
.

 "I see you have a friend,"
 I said.

 "yeah," he answered, "now, I want
 six poems.
.
.
"
 "CHINASKI SUCKS! CHINASKI'S A PRICK!"
 I heard the other
 voice.

 "you fellows been drinking?"
 I asked.

 "so what?" he answered.
 "you drink.
"
 "that's true.
.
.
"
 "CHINASKI'S AN ASSHOLE!"
 then
 the editor of the magazine gave me the
 address and I copied it down on the back
 of an envelope.

 "send us some poems now.
.
.
"
 "I'll see what I can do.
.
.
"
 "CHINASKI WRITES SHIT!"
 "goodbye," I said.

 "goodbye," said the
 editor.

 I hung up.

 there are certainly any number of lonely
 people without much to do with
 their nights.

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