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	<title>Unshod Quills &#187; stephen caratzas</title>
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	<description>A Pandemic Journal of Arts and Letters</description>
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		<title>Stephen Caratzas</title>
		<link>http://www.literaryorphans.org/rookery/UnshodQuills/2011/09/14/stephen-caratzas/</link>
		<comments>http://www.literaryorphans.org/rookery/UnshodQuills/2011/09/14/stephen-caratzas/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 15 Sep 2011 03:00:45 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Unshod Quills]]></dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[UQ Compatriots]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[New York]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[red shoes]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[stephen caratzas]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Unshod Quills]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[Poet Stephen Caratzas on the theme of &#8220;Red Shoes.&#8221; Paris: The City of Lights; Amsterdam: The City of Red Lights I&#8217;ve been thrown out of better countries let me tell you &#8211; and you know what they say about the French? It&#8217;s pretty true. I mean this guy nearly had an aneurysm all because when [&#8230;]]]></description>
				<content:encoded><![CDATA[<h5><strong>Poet Stephen Caratzas on the theme of &#8220;Red Shoes.&#8221;</strong></h5>
<h5></h5>
<h5><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;font-weight:normal;"><strong>Paris: The City of Lights; Amsterdam: The City of Red Lights</strong></span></h5>
<p>I&#8217;ve been thrown out of better countries<br />
let me tell you &#8211; and you know what they<br />
say about the French? It&#8217;s pretty true.</p>
<p>I mean this guy nearly had an aneurysm all<br />
because when I was buying my ticket for<br />
the Eiffel Tower (they sell them by levels,</p>
<p>you know, how high up you want to go, etc.)<br />
I say: &#8220;All zee way to zee top!&#8221; And for<br />
emphasis I open my eyes wide and strike</p>
<p>an Emile Zola kind of pose. Fucker threw me<br />
out. But I digress. Now Amsterdam &#8211; there&#8217;s<br />
my city, and a city just made for people like</p>
<p>me: crude, sexually er, curious, shall we say,<br />
liberal, free-thinking. Hey, I&#8217;m okay with two<br />
women want to get it on together &#8211; so long</p>
<p>as they allow a buncha guys to watch, that is.<br />
They have everything there and they flaunt it.<br />
Recollect a fine young woman, called herself</p>
<p>Monique (in quotes). My GOD, she murdered<br />
me without half trying. And that was before<br />
I even set foot in her room! I&#8217;m walking by, see,</p>
<p>with a goodly lump of nice hashish in foil in my<br />
right-hand pocket, minding my own affairs,<br />
checking out the sights if you catch my</p>
<p>drift, and there she was! Sitting in her window<br />
on this high-backed bar stool kinda thing backwards!<br />
and munching on peanut M&amp;Ms with a bored pout</p>
<p>that almost made me cry. She takes one look<br />
at my face all lit up like a pinball machine and<br />
knows she&#8217;s made her bundle for the night.</p>
<p>So, we negotiate a price, set the timer, the<br />
whole routine and while she&#8217;s getting ready<br />
she&#8217;s asking me where in America am I from,</p>
<p>do I like baseball, etc. etc. and then she goes:<br />
&#8220;Who are you weeth?&#8221; Who am I with? And<br />
a little confused I say Baby, I&#8217;m with you!</p>
<p>&#8220;No, no,&#8221; she laughs &#8211; beautiful laugh &#8211; &#8220;Who are<br />
you traveling weeth?&#8221; Oh, that &#8211; I&#8217;m here solo:<br />
museums, hash, pot, museums, that&#8217;s about it.</p>
<p>&#8220;Isn&#8217;t that a leetle boring?&#8221; She makes that<br />
pout again. And steps out of her scuffed red<br />
pumps. And I say: &#8220;Oh, no, not anymore.&#8221;</p>
<h5></h5>
<h5>Author Biography</h5>
<p>Stephen Caratzas is a writer, musician, and visual artist living in Hastings-on-Hudson, New York.</p>
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