““Dream Song 55" Peter's not friendly. He gives me sideways looks. The architecture is far from reassuring. I feel uneasy. A pity,—the interview began so well: I mentioned fiendish things, he waved them away and sloshed out a martini strangely needed. We spoke of indifferent matters— God's health, the vague hell of the Congo, John's energy, anti-matter matter. I felt fine. Then a change came backward. A chill fell. Talk slackened, died, and began to give me sideways looks. 'Chirst,' I thought 'what now?' and would have askt for another but didn't dare. I feel my application failing. It's growing dark, some other sound is overcoming. His last words are: 'We betrayed me.””
