Infernal Refugee Rag

I’ve got a little time left and nothing to lose. You have too much of both. Everything you do is contingent on your future; I have none. You must take care; I will take advantage. You pay your tithe in hypocrisy. You’re invested. I’m busted. But I won’t go away. I’m that crank with theContinue reading “Infernal Refugee Rag”

That lump in your throat is childhood passing

Summer. Nineteen eighty-something. We were parting the traffic on the 605 southbound for Huntington Beach; I was wearing nothing but shorts and sandals, one hand holding on to the motorcycle seat, the other cradling a six-pack of beer, football-style. We leaned headlong into the wind like a pair of ski-jumpers, as P. effortlessly weaved theContinue reading “That lump in your throat is childhood passing”