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About Phoenix

Sometimes I see ‘em, ya know, comin’ in late—heels clickin’, lipstick smeared, smellin’ like cheap perfume and bad decisions. Makes me laugh! One time, this chick—swear to God—drops a condom in the elevator. A condom! I’m like, “What am I, the janitor now?” But also, respect! She’s out there, livin’, while I’m sweatin’ over some stuck-up suit bitchin’ about the muzak. “The music’s fine, asshole!” I wanna scream. Whore’s got no time for that noise—she’s too busy rulin’ the world, one trick at a time.

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Now, heartily, let me confess: at times I grow mad – the bureaucracy and constant rush, the crammed blocks of concrete that suffocate dreams, and o, the incessant clamor of traffic and deadlines! But then, in a fit of adoration, I revel in the chaotic charm of Rialto, where every corner doth hold a memory – a kiss stolen in the twilight, a secret laugh in the gloom of a rainy eve, a soliloquy on the pews at St. George’s Church on Main Street.

Pedestrian killed by hit-and-run driver in Rialto