Expense Report (or l'Additione)

Joseph was sorting his papers and notebooks on Lucia's bed. He had returned from Miami with all of his files and notebooks and was refiling and organizing in a therapeutic attempt to alleviate his malaise from drinking the night before. He was trying to 'get his house in order'. At 29 & 1/2 he felt he had finally had enough of the sinister bacchanalia that had been his only known life. Dr. Jielu had written a prescription for clonazepam which he had mis-managed, shared, and run out of 3 weeks early. The pharmacist gave him only 5 tablets after calling the doctor, which contributed to Joseph's anxiety. He had been a wreck the night before, and along with fear and guilt he had a calm, a hope, even a faith that he never had to contend with that sort of thing again if he just chose to do the next right thing. As he went through his papers and notebooks, he stumbled upon a beautiful song he had written that felt magical and medicinal to his dark and heavy heart. It was as unfamiliar to him as if he had never seen it or read it before -- Jamais Vu. It read as follows:

Expense Report (or L'additione)

7 poppies' heads
3 men dead
Ghosts in their bellies
Men in their bones

10 dollars
15 euros
10 pounds
The life of a man

The love behind a red curtain
What's in the bag is certain
She spilled tears but I didn't believe
I spilled blood all over my sleeve

He also had notes on the reverse of the sheet that suggested he name his band "The Hats on the Bed" and above that starred item another that indicated he should use the chorus of a casino slot machine room, that magical tumbling rain of sound on the heart. It makes sense as a musical symbol, because that rain forest of electronic sirens, ethereal and sweet, rings the false hope and empty dreams of the machinery of Las Vegas as it eats the hearts of men who crash on its desert shores. G-d, it's beautiful, but only from the other side.

Joseph was blessed. He wanted to know about so many things, and in spite of his ration of tragedy, he still had an appetite for beauty & redemption. In fact, as a waiter he thought to himself that it's time for the entree. Lucia was a phenomenal muse, an ancient and loving soul with intelligent, warm eyes that could communicate more than Joseph would ever be able to say. As they walked to the pharmacy to get his prescription, for which she would pay, they passed vibrant and healthy pansies defying the Philadelphian December. She noted, "those are some resilient-ass pansies." Joseph smiled and told her that that was a beautiful and ironic statement. She smiled, gave a quick eye to his and said, "Good point." He replied, "Tough-ass pansies, Rough-ass pansies." He asked her which was better. They agreed that "Rough-ass pansies" was more perfect.