Mental image: Girl sitting on red bench listening to Billie Holiday, eating Juanita’s Tortilla Chips straight out of a bag, sipping dark beer out of a travel mug, reading When Men Become Gods, and waiting.

What a strange sort of urban metro lifesyle. Warm, fresh air wafting thru the open doors, carrying the scent of the Gyros next door.

The last time she was there, it was full dark, and damp, a winter breeze blowing thru a cracked window. She cowered in a corner, praying for time to speed up as two, clearly homeless guys got into a shouting match over how to spend 5 dollars. If there had been music playing, she didn’t hear it..

Soundtracks of our Lives..

I’ve listened to Eye of the Tiger on the way to a first date.

I’ve had a man drunk dial me and begin singing Every Rose Has its Thorn.

And I once drunk texted a guy the song, I Touch Myself by Divinyls.