Midnight Log

So!

 Frank Marzella was a contact of the Cunninghams, in Napoli. The guy, in the military married a Shatzee after the war, and generated a bitch of a daughter who flashed a picture of a common grave to me,asking me how I felt, then telling me Hitler was a good man, and there was something special about dresser drawers, or dressers, cupboards...wasn't very clear about it. I remember as a child, looking at the picture,in black and white, and feeling a still coldness, and a repulsion at what I saw, at how wrong it was. I needed to look at it, to understand what it was, so removed from any reality I had experienced. After that Icould not play with Monica at all. My father was conned into giving the eldest daughter guitar lessons, I just went to the house to read Michael's comics, and would be left doing that, not much talk, until the friendship died as an end. The Sammartino, one of which worked at the US Consulate in Napoli, approached me there. After thirty years, Patrizia told me she was a fascist on a visit in Texas. That eventually made that friendship nominal, and her a whore in Milano. Some people should be more attentive in selecting political faiths.

28, an animal barn house in white and black, with transversal slats up front, a smear of ill deposited politesse to aim for in future generations, were tormenting themselves by listening to Bruce Springsteen, to see who they could lure for a friday night party. No one came. Man, Bruce's voice warbled, and went Southern here and there, so I though, karaoke,what is it? An Ellen Hinds car was there, in rot suppository,a Ford 9802 TA MAINE. I write, she asks questions, so she must have a short attention span since WWII is actually over, and the SS really were not a noticeable presence on US shores. remember, Brooklyn is where the ethics board DA Hines resides, and it ain't Gregory.

The Marzella connected car pulled up with a would be or infiltrated marine and a flimsy, asking me SS questions I yawned to, considering. Step outside the house at midnight around these people cars stop, people jut out, cellphones appear, can we call the tip line, can we?

So, these people pull up right in front of me with an imitation of decision tinged with a tangent of violence, which pisses me off right away, but I say nothing.

Let me just say that dad's family moved to Brooklyn, as a second move from Houston Street, then, his third, the house in Bayside, about less than a mile from Frank-is Jerry Marzella Lewis Boulevard. He's from New Jersey's very own confederate general town Patterson with real estate calling, calling to Italians, and a great team of anarchists  to strand,who instead figured everything out so well one of them assassinated Victor Emanuel of Savoia some number following or other. It wasn't Frank.

So the registration on the car-I mean, you know, I'm sitting on the stoop, I'm not naked, and even if I were show some concern about machoing with brio in front of a ranch house or two with Easter figurines of rabbits and such pushing through the holes the metal bars poked through the lawn.

Registration: A recondite FM then 690139;
Safety Emission: 07097872;

License plate:NY ESH 7748, a Malibu Chrysler, marked SS and MAXX in the back. Frank's house hunter daughter, who, although I've met her a handful of fingers of times, still obsesses about my real estate through 111, Queens cops and works her initials from an FM to an AM, or mornin' radio. I remember her furniture being mostly white with a unicorn moppet dangling from a string in a rainbow motif in her room,when she was already past High School. Scary, really.

Another car pulls up, when I was exploring the nature of siding on some houses to determine noy only building date, but remodernations. This slammed its brakes proudly displaying NY EWB 1456. A guy hops out, and joins house number 43. For that matter, a Japanese who blackened his race in South America sped on backhome as soon as he heard I was sitting on the stoop, andwho knows if he lives at ole 29, now adhesive 27 forsomereason. This is the 2nd time he does so. I continue the pattern of not saluting the dude, and write his license plate down, an ole NY GFH-3607. So, this guy is rumored to have cleared out two towns for the blitzkrieg, but he looks old enough to have only cleared out his fillings watching the Transformers.

wow, they're checking what I borrowed from the library to see if my story is straight about the siding. Why don't they ask how, I stepped out and the lights went  on at the Victorian era porch house bare window? Oh, right,  they already know.