Johnny has to hurry and go put three red roses and a half empty bottle of Martel cognac on Edgar Allan Poe's grave as he does every year in Baltimore. Back by morning.
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'
The rest here
Time for Jersey City, After Dark
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