Mikhal fell off when he got the news that his brother had died in Vietnam.
He fell off again when his secret high school love ran off and
married another man. He fell off with the death of his grandfather who
had raised him. He fell off with the death of his grandmother who was
like a mother to him, more than his own troubled mother. He fell
off with every tormented vision he’d witnessed. He fell off every time
he thought of home. He fell off in a car wreck at the age of 19. He fell
off when man first stepped on the moon. He fell off when Elvis got
married. He fell off when Nixon lied. He fell off with Watergate on
the TV every fucking day. He fell off when disco made it’s debut. He
fell off like a shooting star past its heyday. He fell off and went crazy
for a while. He fell off and met an exotic dancer. He fell off and married
a woman almost twice his age. He fell off when AIDS made a
comeuppance. He fell off when Sonny died and Cher cried. He fell off
with every bad piece of news from home. He fell off when the city
bridge collapsed. He fell off with every long legged creature who
passed him by. He fell off with a stab wound to his chest. He fell off in
a 69 Impala. He fell off and then came home.