Garbage Can Symphony (Part Three)
Home that night, the Kramdens lie in bed on their seamy dusty old mattress. The moon shines in the window. A scratchy old 16 RPM jazz record twirls on the turntable. Ralph can't sleep; he stares at the ceiling. He's fat and he has no job.
But at least he doesn't smell like shit like Ed Norton.
Outside, horns beep and garbage cans
clatter, and there's Mrs. Manicotti yelling
to some boys to stop making a racket and waking her up.
The bed is warm and snugly and cozy, and
Alice is next to him, and things are okay.
Baby ...
you're ...
the ...
greatest.
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