ngc

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Friday, November 19, 2010

Jimmy's Crib



I remember going to Jimmy's crib on the beach. I had fucked up my back and needed pain pills. I got there and Jimmy's roommate let me in. We walked past Jimmy playing video games at his computer and entered the bedroom. Two haggard bitches were snorting shit inside the room. Their titties were wrinkled and scarred.

"Don't tell Jimmy I got hookers in here," his roommate told me.

"How would he not notice two hookers?" I asked.

"You want the homie hook-up?" he asked.

"I'm cool man, I just need something to make my back stop hurting," I answered.

I got a couple pills and they held me over for a day, but I ended up going to the hospital for the straight shot of Dilaudid.

Monday, November 8, 2010

Typical City

On business days, colorful dresses, tight skirts, and pantsuits wrap around Latin curves as high-heels click on the sidewalk.

Expensive suits drive exotic leases, honking as they cut each other off at each stoplight, crappy techno-pop blasting as they text and drive block by block.

The sun drops below canal-drained Miami-Dade County.

Deliverymen roll down the doors of their trucks and storeowners push shutters across their storefronts. Students walk from MDCC Wolfon Campus to the Metro-Rail and condo-dwellers pick up poop as their little dogs take them for their evening walks.

Men and women scavenge from City of Miami garbage cans, hunting for protein and carbohydrates.

Escorts exit buildings clad in hooker gear, stepping off curbs into shiny cars.

Crackheads walk around with crackhead wedgies, wiping their snotty noses with their tattered shirtsleeves.

A couple kids come flying down 2nd street on skateboards.

We’re all equal down here on the concrete.

Sunday, November 7, 2010

Arrogant.

The two City of Miami cops looked exhausted. They reminded me of the day-care workers and babysitters I used to wear out as a kid.

“You’re messing up the marble,” the cop said.

“I’ve been messin up the marble for twenty years and it’s never been a problem,” I said.

“Things change in twenty years,” he said.

“Not for me they don’t,” I replied.