The Abduction from the Seraglio
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I was sitting in my brand-new Butler building, surrounded by steel of high quality folded at y-degree ahe only thing prettier than ladies is an I-beam painted bright yellow. I told em I wanted a big door. A big door in front where a girl could hide her car if she wao evade the gaze of her husband the rat-poison salesman. You ever been out with a rat-poison salesman? They are fine fellows with little red eyes.I laying with my forty-three-foot overhead traveling e which is painted bright yellow. I ractig knog over the stepladder with the hook. I was at a low point. Id been thinking about bread, colored steel bread, all kinds of colors of steel bread -- red yellow purple green brown steel bread -- then I thought no, thats not it. And Id already made all the welded-steel four-thousand-pound artichokes the world could aodate that week, and they would me drink no more, only a little Loar beer now and then which I bbr>9９ｌib.</abbr>dont much care for. And my new Waylon Jennings record had a scrat it, went crack crack crack across the whole width of Side O was the kind of impasse us creative people reach every Thursday, some prefer other days. So I figured that in order not to totally waste this valuable time of my life, I had better get oid bust sta of the seraglio.
Chorus:
Oh stanze oh stanze
What you doin in that se-rag-li-o?
I been poppin Darvon and mothballs
Poppin Darvon and mothballs
Ever since I let you go.
Well, I motored out to the seraglio, got blindsided on the Freeway by two huhousand guys trying to get home from their work at the rat-poison factories, all two huhousand tape decks playin the same thing, some kind of roll-on-down-the-road song
rollin
rollin
rollin
rollin
but there wasnt just a hell of a lot of actual forward motioe this hymn to possibility. The seraglio turned out to be a Butler building too, much like mine only vaster of course, that son of a bitch. I spent a little while admiring that fine red-paieel that you put the pieces together of out of a catalogue a her down on your slab and be barbeg your flank steak from the A.& P. by five oclo the same day. The Pasha didnt have any great big doors in his, just otle tee-ninesy door with a picture of an unfed-retly Doberman pasted on it, I took that as a hint and I thought stanze, stanze, how could you be so dumb?
The thing is, and I hate to admit it, stanzes a little dumb. Shes not so dumb as a lady I onew who thought the Mark of Zorro was an N, but shes not perfect. You tell her you heard via the jungle drums that theres a va Willie Jake Johnsons bed and her eyes will cut to the side just for a moment, which means shes thinking. Shes not servative. Im some kind of an artist, but Im servative. Min<dfn>..</dfn>e is the art of the possible, plus two. She, on the trary, spent many years as a talented and elegant try-music groupie. She knows things I do not knoy dust is $1,900 an ounow, I hear tell -- shes tasted it, I havent. Its a small thing, but irritating. Shes dumb in what she knows, if you follow me.
Chorus:
Oh stanze oh stanze
What you doin in that se-rag-li-o?
I been sleepin on paper towels
Sleepin on paper towels and
Drinkin Sea & Ski
Ever since I let you go.
The Pasha is a Plymouth dealer, actually. He has this mysterious power over people as which is called ten million dollars a year, gross. About the only thing we share in the way of on humanity is four welded-steel artichokes, which he bought right from the stu<samp></samp>dio, which is where he saw stahe artichoke is a beautiful form, maybe too mannerly, I roughen mine up some, thats where the i is. I dont even mind the damn Plymouth, as a form, but what I t stand is a dealer. In anything. I know that this is a small picky-minded dumb-ass prejudice, but its been earned. Anyhow the Pasha, as we call him, noticed that stanze was some beautiful, in fact semi-incredible looking, with black hair. He turned her head, as used to be said. Hed got to the left of flank steak, and he employed that. If were having Neiman-Marcus time, I t pete. (In all hoy I have to cede that he is fairly handsome, for a Pasha, and excels in a number of expensive sports.) He put her in a Butler building just to mock me and because shes not so dumb shed be caught dead in a big fancy layout in River Oaks or somewhere. Shes got values. What Im trying to suggest is, shes in a delicate relation to the real.
I t uand this. She is so great. When we go partying she always takes care to dah Bill Crays four-year-old girl, whos a fool for dang. She made me read eace, which struck me at first glance as terrible thick. She renews my subscription to the Texas Observer every year. She tributes regularly to the United Way and got gassed i cities a time or two while expressing her opinion of the ret war. Shes kind to rat-poison salesmen. Shes afraid of the dark. She took care of me that time I had my little psychotic episode. She is so great. Once I saw her slug a guy in a supermarket hag his kid, his legal right, with uhusiasm. The really dreadful thought></a>, to me, is that her real might be the real one.
Well, I opehe door. The Doberman came at me raging and snarling and generally carrying on in the way he felt was expected of him. I threw him a fifty-five-pound reinforced-crete pork chop whiocked him silly. I spoke to stanze. We used to walk dowreet together bumping our hipboogether in joy, befod and everybody. I wao float in the air again some feeling of that. It dibbr>.</abbr>dnt work. Im sorry. But I guess, as the architects say, theres no use g over spilt marble. She will undoubtedly move on and up and down and around in the world, New York, Chicago, and Temple, Texas, making everything siderably better than it was, for short periods of time. We advehats not bad.
Chorus:
Oh stanze oh stanze
What you doin in that se-rag-li-o?
How I miss you
How I miss you
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