The Craven
With apologies to Edgar Allen Poe
Once upon a midnight beery, while I stressed out, drunk and weary, In my one-room flat so dreary, a floor above a liquor store. As I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As if someone was gently rapping, rapping on my apartment door. “Some salesman,” I muttered, “knocking on my apartment door— Only this, and nothing more.” I recall the splendor of that snowy cold December And distinctly I...
