Author: Otto S. Fishbein

Mr. Reagan says, “we will protect you.” I don’t subscribe to this point of view; believe me when I say to you, “I hope these Comics are for children too.”

Reflection in the rearview, fading lights from town…”I know you can’t stay too late. I’ll have you home in time. Let’s read the Sunday Comics beyond the county line.”

When you don’t like it, keep going.
It’s nonsense, in a way, to fight shadows. When you can’t bear it anymore, keep going til you’re there. Sunday Comics.

She had gin and juice when I landed, miss you much like Janet. Grammy parted with the camper, I really couldn’t plan it…This s- crazy, though, I forgot to hit him up. Sunday Comics stop me but let me in, that’s Seattle Star love…

Bankrupt thoughts steal my hope; fix the bail; charge me interest while I’m stuck in your plastic jail. From my cell I read Sunday Comics while my freedom ring inside the belly of your cash machine.

Susan Jane standing in the rain, eating sugar cane, feeling the pain. Susan Jane, she is beautifully insane, barefoot in the muddy road. Her mind is free, she swims in the sea. She’s reading the Sunday Comics, see; her soul is on a spree. She’s making love to me barefoot in the muddy road.

So I pulled your name out of my Rolodex, and I tore all your pictures in two, and I burned down the malt shop where we used to go just because it reminds me of you! That’s right, you ain’t gonna see me cryin’. I’m glad that you found somebody new…

Fifteen hours and fifteen days was all your fragile mind could take before it crashed to ground like broken glass. But I don’t mind.
I’m reading the Sunday Comics; feels like I’m almost done.

I been dipped in double meaning; I been stuck with static cling; Think I got a rupto-pac; Think I got a big mac attack — hold the pickles, hold the lettuce, special orders don’t upset us, all we as is that you let us serve it your way.

Once again, there are no humans who’ve escaped from a country outside the local deli. Not one soul loses their identity! Not one drop have I written! We’re always the people of the other — basic closed dialogue, grumpened, in place of phage! Why don’t you see where the rooftops wander? Why don’t you see where the rooftops of the world wander beyond, raised, tied together? It’s important!