Lucy realized her life was like a DMV waiting line and that her number was never going to be called. 

He hadn't seen Shorty in years, but the old carney, perched precariously on his tall barstool, still looked the same as the day they had met years before at that seaside beer joint.

Through the dark city streets we rambled, our beers in bags, our song of choice an old-time rag.

What we couldn't change we simply had to endure.

"Opinions are like assholes," my friend Ian often says, "and everyone is an asshole."

A weekend with kids was like a day at the dentist as far as Dennis was concerned.

Settled and saddled she slipped away from home and headed for the streets.