Sudetenland Tales by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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Sudetenland Tales
Page 65
I still wear the backstage pass you gave me in ’72, laminated and attached to my oxygen tank. I whisper sweet nothings to it nightly, mostly your lyrics but sometimes my blood pressure stats.
You are proof that rock never dies; it simply takes longer to get out of a chair. If you ever fancy a duet at Bingo Night, I’ll bring the tambourine and the heated blanket.
Forever yours, Doris H. (Your “Satisfaction” in sensible orthopedic shoes.)
AI Generated Reply from Keith Richards to Doris “Cherry Smoke” Hughes Scrawled on the back of a pudding menu, smudged with guitar polish and a hint of prune.
Dearest Doris,
Cherry Smoke! I’d sooner forget my name than that portable fan incident; blew my hair into a shape that got us mistaken for a Motown act backstage. Brilliant times.
Your letter moved me more than my last hip. You're right; falling onto my amp during “Hangie” was unplanned, but bloody poetic. You always saw the art in the job, didn’t you?