Ye Good ole Telly

You ever scan the crowd for them? Those who like you? The faces in the rain, the addicts behind the curtains. You star the night off with two beers, no matter how much you wash your hands the fucking smell of carburetor cleaner and break fluids just won’t leave. You drink your first beer while making that shrimp soup. Twice you glance down, your hands and what you see is your hands are still dirty from the grease, caked under your nails, black as tar. You sit down on the oak table, and start your second beer. The shrimp soup … Continue reading Ye Good ole Telly