“I still say it looks like a skinny waif sitting between two fat people on a crowded bus.”
“How did you get the building inspector to approve it once again?
“You just keep giving him pints until he can’t see straight.”
I let you see this wonderful world. That sweet smell, that’s me too. The touch of her skin is my gift to you. Oh, you like spicy chili do you? You can tell me your thoughts because you know I can hear.
Twelve hole at Whitehorse Country Club in Westchester New York. One hundred seventy-five yards, a par three. I used a five wood. One bounce and it went in. No pigs were flying so it must be the end of the world.
The rapid pinging of nail guns assaults the ears
Angry words shouted in foreign tongues float across skeleton wooden frames
Trucks rumbling over crunching gravel
The gloppy glop machine spitting grey lava
Weed wackers whining
Mowers massacring green grasses
A new home
Oh Danny Boy! 