A friend moved up by Camrose. And there were the steps. You could walk into infinity. Everyone up there had a story. Altman. Cobain. The be-ers.
My story goes like this: I had a friend and sometimes she rode the elevator and sometimes she took the stairs and when she moved I helped her. She’s still my friend.
I never met Altman or Cobain. I think they were dead by then. Fine by me.
by Hank Cherry