Six Shooter Blues

Abe Lincoln just came back and started taking selfies. Meanwhile, the hipster army turned every bar into a museum with names like “Where are all the honest men?” Witches were flying matchsticks ‘round the minimum wage, daily pay crowd, flaunting faces like goblins and legs of steel. The cowboys paid no mind and were riding bigger horses than before. Mud, women, flags tobacco, all flapped behind the tires. Keyboards were playing flamenco citing record collections stolen from my dad, I … Continue reading Six Shooter Blues