
"“Why not?” She snuggled closer to Raoul. Hey, he was hers, same as her spike-heeled boots, and the mole on her cheek. She looked great for forty-five, and he made her feel younger. Fuck anybody who didn’t like it: Al, and the regulars who eyed them, smirking.
Like Speed, whose junkie wife snatched purses and was banned from half the bars in town. And antsy Bobby C., who Lisa heard was a registered sex offender.
Yeah, let them cast stones."
Cindy Rosmus lets 'er rip . com




"Drunk at the matinee" is a collection of candid poetry about stupid shit that we all experience from day to day.




No comments:
Post a Comment