Monday, September 15, 2014


It was a beautiful old brick white building with two stories and a patio on the second floor with filigreed railing and brick-colored tile and wrought iron chairs where we could sit and drink Lambrusco and talk about what the city was like thirty years ago when we used to live here before this restaurant even existed (I think it was a head shop back then) how we might laugh and perhaps drink even too much (Lambrusco)! but for the fact that this restaurant closed ten years ago and now is a pile of rubble at our feet which we walked quickly through as we felt the presence of hoodlums behind us and they were gaining on us although they were not real hoodlums, they were just a fond memory of hoodlums, wearing black, after all these years, wanting us again.

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