the guru
The guru's sitting on the sofa when I get back. I've lost count of how much Guiness has been drunk. It's a winter drunk, fierce and warming. In the cab on the way home, my friend says the killer line as we eat a bag of chips balancing on my knee and I dig up the reply and who knows if it's right or wrong or true or not, but all I do know is that I am not ready to find a guru sitting on the sofa when I get in. The guru fends me off. He keeps his calm. He tells me I need to travel to India. Start at the top and work my way down to the bottom.
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