disappointments

i would have left, but for the Modelo in my hand. i did for a moment, Klennex in pocket, squatting between the hip hop carousel and the sliced meat graffiti carts. But returned through the stickered doorway to the woowoowopping long hair beauts and surf guitar swaying millenial angst. I smoke the smoke of the cigarette enclined and watch the embers of the grill in the antique club be taunted by Billy, Joe, and Christo who each lay their cards on the table just to watch the short skirts saunter by.