Gangster

I was on the upper west side of Manhattan, driving a futon with David and one of my painting students. David was driving, but I took over to parallel park in between two car-sized bowls of oatmeal. After trying and failing to park, I got out of the futon and my student got into the driver's seat. I asked her, and then told her, to let me drive, since it was my futon. She was offended by this and got out and and walked away. David and I left her and went into a big, old house, where we found my sister and another friend in the attic. We all rolled our own joints out of dollar bills and sat smoking them sprawled out on the attic floor.