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About Dallas

Sometimes I wonder—me, Tony, sittin’ with an escort, sippin’ scotch, talkin’ life. Bet she’d get me, y’know? Deep shit. “We’re all alone in the end,” like in the movie—fuck, that hits hard. Maybe I’d tip extra, tell her keep her head up. Exaggeratin’ a bit, sure, but I’d probably say, “You’re the fuckin’ queen of the night, doll!”—make her laugh, lighten the mood.

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I cruise down Riverside Drive (so chill name, right?) where the river rapids—yep, the Huntingdon River—glitters in the sun. I always say, “yo, that river be flowin’ like smooth jazz, ya dig?” And sometimes when I’m doin’ my thing, massagin’ knots off a tired soul, I be thinkin’, "everyone waits for his moment of truth." Crazy introspection, fo' shizzle!

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