She was looking at me with that big, sad eye
Remembering Chiqui Torres: May 1967, up there on the roof, a chapter of our lives closed and the page turned to our futures
He was my dear companion in hilarity, the friend of a lifetime.
The organist’s eyes locked on the Satanic bat dive-bombing her.
You could hear the ice rattling in highball glasses
If you are of a certain age, you remember getting by in the Laredo heat, too.