My words are a direct reflection of what is being played out in my mind. For artistic purpose and dramatic effect I have duct-tapped the "edit" button…
A slow drag blow. a puff of smoke rises. Angel baby halo floats up, up, up disappearing into a vapor mist that hoversover a neighborhood's mystique and gutsy reputation Tommy G flicks his cigaret butt onto the sidewalk. a boy, an era when cool was a pack of Lucky Strikes tucked into the left sleeve …
Static New York accents float With abrasive intent throughout the diner – Burnt smoky bacon thick cut it with a knife smell Fills the air bouncing off cracked Half-assed some kind of repair Duct tapped red vinyl booth seats Screaming 1950’s decor reminiscent of happier days Attaching its vibration to anyone that happens to be …
