Previously Published in Haunted Waters Press
Crazy Love Walking after midnight with a man barely known, it was a crazy love, a Patsy Cline song played to life in the well-worn Gateway District. Their chance encounter in the skid-row hotel hallway, and I became their records' scratch. It was the late 50s, and they did what was expected, what was supposed to be right. There was a single room overlooking the train depot and she tried to calm the baby through the rumble of the evening's Empire Builder. But the Seagram's 7 sign flashed throughout the nights, and maybe that pulsing whiskey light ruined her blood. It ran through a vein of thirst, nearly under control until it wasn't, and then they just did whatever they could.
0 Comments
|
Gail WawrzyniakRegardless of the genre of art, the artist is sharing an emotion, a thought, a story. I find the stories in others' art and use them to create my own. Archives
July 2015
Categories
All
Share This:
|