The Old Neighborhood

Tony just laughed, sucking down one of his twenty Kool Menthols (in between belching and farting) so far while talking to me on the bench that day.  I remembered this vile habit and then as it does now, only accentuates his disgustingness.

Upon the realization I had spent the better part of the afternoon with this anachronistic individual, I knew it was time to leave.

So we said our goodbyes. Tony knew not to ask me for my cell number and I didn’t ask for his. Both he and I knew I would never return.

It is so true, you never can go home.

I was pretty sure where Tony was destined to be: hanging out in front of the Lemon Ice King of Corona, just shootin’ the shit watchin’ as “the Deigos by.”



About me

This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)