HAVE YOU SEEN A PANTOPON ROSE

Stay away from Queens Plaza, sono. . . Evil spot haunted by dicks scream for dope fiend lover. . .Too many levels. . . Heat flares out from the broom closet high on ammonia. . . like burning lions. . . fall on poor old lush worker scare her veins right down to the bone.
. . . Her skin-pop a week or do that five-twenty-nine-kick handed out free and gratis by NYC to jostling junkies. . .
So Fag, Beagle, Irish, Sailor beware. . . Look down, look down along that line before you travail there. . . The subway sweeps by with a black blast of iron . . .
-Queens Plaza is a bad spot for lush workers. . . Too many levels and lurking places for subway heat, and impossible to cover when you put the hand out. . .
Five months and twenty-nine days; sentence given for “jostling”, that is, touching a flop with obvious intent. . . Innocent people may be convicted of murder but not of jostling.
Fag, Beagle, Irish, Sailor, old time, junkies and lush-workers of my acquaintance. . . The old 103rd street klatch. . . Sailor and Irish hanged themselves in the Tombs. . . The Beagle is dead of an overdose and the Fag went wrong. . .
“Have you seen Pantopon Rose?” said the old junky. . . “Time to cosq,” put on a black overcoat and made the square. . . Down skid road to Market Street Museum shows all kinds of masturbation and self-abuse.
Young boys need it special. . .
The gangster in concrete rolls down the river chan