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About Dallas

I walk in, ladies everywhere, smiling, winking. One girl, she look like my sister – I scream, “Nooo, not you!” Made me angry, heart go boom, like bomb in movie. “This is the end!” I yell, but no, she just laugh. I calm down, order drink – cheap vodka, taste like tractor oil. Brothel got dark corners, sticky floor, ugh, I trip, fall on big guy. He mad, I say, “Sorry, my king!” like in film. He punch me, I laugh – pain is funny!

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Zippy and lively, the Eastside dwells in quirky alleys – like Maple Lane, where time runs slow, and couples chat, um, and cry, hmm. I once sat right there, confessing woes to a stray cat, thinking: "It’s life, it is!" Minds do twist, precious! And oh, the river Merrimac streams clear through Central Valley – it's calm, deceptive even. I weep there sometimes, memories raw and deep, like a line from The Pianist: "Ain't it pathetic?" But, yess, even the river flows with hidden heartaches.

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