Paul, Art, and Hitler

Toss me a cigarette, I think there’s one in my rain coat. I heard cathedral bells, dripping in the alley ways. Kicking down the cobble stones. Lucky strikes, flapper girls, bootlegging, gaslight lanterns, cool rain and mist. Stetson hats, derbies, and musty cologne. Tweed and wool, scarves and boots. Industrial birth; smoke stacks, train yards, five o’clock whistles. Suits, suspenders, cigars, and dresses. A clarinet on the radio. Lynchings in the Delta, and an old black man on the porch with a guitar. "…the woman I love, woman that I love, oh woman I love… took off for my best friend.." The peak of 1929, and the crash that followed…the hilton to the dregs within a snap of the fingers, with nothing but the rubble of a glamorous age to mill around in… a misfortunate era that hadn’t seen it’s final horror. A new nightmare that would emmerge from Germany, and define the worth of the poor in american culture.