Glass jars, each filled with a different color of dirt. hallowed ground, the dirt of the killing places beige, black, brown, grey and red dirt. I stand. and …I am not able to say anything. I imagine their ancestral home lands, the soils of fertile rich other places, of coffee, of cinnamon, of nutmeg, of …
Sonny started singing while he shuck the martiniI realized right then and there I wanted mine stirred.They all had red jackets like those carnival monkeys playing the snare drums,banging out cocktails for tips.100 years and nothing much has changed I guess.Flirting bartenders interrupting my intimate conversations about love and death.Go away, I was just getting …
Stuffing toilet paper in my ears doesn’t work all the time. Sometimes the music is just too loud. Johnny is an asshole and sucks cock. It says it right there. A knife to the door of the stall does the trick. The poetic musings of a spurned girl etched in block letters. How long must …
