Free The Twilight of the Bums by Raymond Federman, George Chambers Page A

bikinis that look like deflated balloons, is
    shipping water, wobbling. # One starts to giggle
    and tickles his friend,who starts giggling and
    tickling him back. Then, it seems from the distance ,
    as we recede to the safety of the shore ,
    that the two old guys are dueling
    with their fishing poles ,
    can this be? Do you
    see what we see?

THE FAILURE OF WORDS

    By [k]now it     be    , to our   eaders, that  two  old,   are crea ures,      or,   Ffo        to  it luntly,    tha are        .            ?    But o/ne shoul nt    thi tha       believe    F            in the   of    . Our   old     re   aware    tat are  get us    where     want    &prevnt there.      In fact,     is   one exlained    why    ? always       ma nage  s    ing     yet      [in italics]     to
    ho   !
    Wht the     say       cannot      compltely,    one   not mean at   (     e      )
    but one can   enouf to know    not cannot be.     Di yo my    ?
    Yes, I tink   what you   ,  or not  .      Maybe

A NOTE ON “DUEL AT SEA”
    Those bits of cloth in the water, those bikinis floating in the surf like deflated balloons, in the context of the situation, have symbolic content complicated and yet somehow clearly decipherable.
    It is easy to understand that sex has sped away on the cigarette power boat and left the old geezers in its wake futilely dueling, violence being the only thing left to them.
    As such the old geezers may have stumbled into a great poetic moment if not a great poem.

NUMEROLOGY

Bum1:
22.
Bum2:
Ha ha ha. 44.
Bum1:
73.
Bum2:
Seventy what?
Bum1:
3.
Bum2:
Oh, that’s a good one. 303.
Bum1:
Ah, what a beginning, 324.
Bum2:
Yes, yes, of course. But derivative. 9.
Bum1:
9? Are you aware that the 9 always cancels itself?
Bum2:
Yes, of course. But I’ll stick with my 9.
Bum1:
It sobers one up. How can I go on?
Bum2:
Start all over again.
Bum1:
Okay. 63.
Bum2:
Oh, oh, 63 … 63. Yes, that one.
Bum1:
No, no good. 6 & 3 add up to 9.
Bum2:
We’re stuck then. We’ve canceled ourselves again.
Bum1:
That’s right. End of the game.

NEW YEAR’S RESOLUTIONS
    It’s New Year’s Eve. No need to specify which year is coming to an end and which will begin at midnight, that is unimportant, what counts is that the bums are preparing (without even consulting each other) their lists of New Year’s resolutions.
    Bum One’s list reads as follows:
    No more Baked Alaska
    No more Beef Wellington
    No more Chocolate Dredge Strawberries
    No more Three Dip Banana Split with Hot Fudge
    No more Ice Cream Sundae with Extra Nuts & Cherry
    No more Bourbon No more Bonbon
    Bum Two’s list reads this way:
    No more wishing I were in Paris
    Ah Paris Paris
    drinking a bottle of Perrier
    Ah Paris Paris
    smoking Gauloises
    Ah Paris Paris
    sitting at the terrace of a café
    Ah Paris Paris
    on the Champs Elysées
    Ah Paree Paree

THE BUMS WHO WOULD BE KINGS
    The bums have decided that before they change tense, before they enter the void of non-being, they would like to experience one last great adventure -- to go out into the world and gain ultimate power, if not total omnipotence.
    And so Bum One proclaims that for him the great adventure would be to sit on the Papal Throne in the Vatican and rule over the millions and millions of Catholics in the