In my days on the road, I lived out of a backpack. If I was in transit, there was a guitar case in my left hand, a pack on my back, and my right thumb jauntily positioned to get a ride.
Cheaters Monopoly
Golden
The Golden One was a large motor sailor with exquisite appointments. The fixtures in the master cabins bath were gold or at least perfect gold plate. It seemed nothing was too good for the master of the Golden One.
Lost
Apartments, even whole houses, are replaceable. So you can move from one city to the next with little apparent effect: the events that happened there and our reactions to them are what mattered.
Kendrick’s Gold
It was the barest glimmer of gold. Barely a speck. I took the empty cup and dug into the coarse sand, trying to recapture that gleam.
Night Trip
I don't know about you, but my mind can drift into fertile territory on long nighttime drives.
Ephemera
The argument was the supreme form of discourse between Josh and John. They'd come to our gatherings prepared with topics, rebuttals, and reinforcing evidence. You had to do very little to get them going. Ask about the limits of copyright in the United States, and they'd roll on for hours
Snip
Arthur was an unsuccessful writer of dramatic tales. His plotlines involved so much obfuscation that you needed a guide to wade through the story.
The Golden Fleece
John believed in fleecing, not taking fleece, and hide from his "customers."
Hot Tomale Sauce
Where there is a summer visitor, there is a summer visitor industry.
Sally
To quote the old Mickey and Sylvia song, "Love is strange." There is no ordinary on that carousel, and sometimes you need to jump off before the music ends. That's how it was for one summer entanglement that I had in Boston.
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