If it’s down and dirty in the life of small rooms you want, search no further. Cold Reading reports from the trenches. In a book as thin as a worn sheet, the poet cops a plea for all residents on the rim. This is the book to take to bed when it’s the best you can do-along with a mess of army blankets and a cheap radio. Some winters are so cold that a man must decide whether to read or burn the furniture. Made up of late-night binges of sour grapes and jeremiads, these 54 entries hit the spot like a preacher on ludes. If nothing else, they’ll put the chill of god into a moment’s notice. Cold Reading is bad, bad-and wonderful for you.