playin with wordz
the old man spoke with piercing words, and slow, phallic gestures from his speckled hands. but I sat and swallowed my cold breakfast trying not refute anything he stated. My body felt like Vietnam in 1970, invaded by a thick stench of repugnance. He thought he had seen it all, he thought he was a real wise guy. These circumstances really seemed to get him off. Meanwhile I stared at the burnt bacon wondering whether it or my uncle was the bigger pig.
Circa 1923. Street scene, New Orleans.