Madame Joe

Down on Clarendon Avenue. With a childlike vision leaping into view. Clicking, clacking of Sammii's high-heeled shoe. Ford and Fitzroy, Madame Joe. He's much older now with that shirt on drinking coke. And the smell of nasty cigarette smoke comes drifting through. Cool night air like Shalimar. And outside someone is getting in trouble with the cops. Sonny's out in the street collecting bottle tops. Then he goes for cigarettes and matches in the shop. Happy taken Madame Joe. That's when you fall. Whoa, that's when you fall. Fall into a trance. Come to Summers to sit on a sofa playing games of chance. With folded arms and history books you glance. Into the eyes of Madame Joe.