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The Smooth Plastic Line Between Peace and Woe
I brought the dog along to a buddy's place, the other night. The three of us sat around, listening to music. We must've hung out for an hour or so, talking about breasts, drug-related mishaps, and war. We kept it dog-friendly. Topics for discussion that only seem important after eleven p.m. on a full stomach, with the prospect of a warm bed and ( Read more... ) -
What do they dream about?
Jim is home free. He's a drifter. I often see him on Shattuck. There's just a hint of the South in his voice, and it's prone to cracking. He has a mustache, his skin is weathered, he stands at five-eight. He's thin. Rugged. Wears a cowboy hat and flannel shirts. Dark colors, always. Blues and blacks, mostly. He smokes Marlboro Lights and usually ( Read more... )
