Alixhildr

He had reigned in Carville since the town’s construction, late in 1810. And like a house in the historic district, he became a simple constant, a familiar face for generations and generations. The cashier in the third line of the Shop ‘N Go knew him and had known him from her earliest memories; the Vietnam War veteran who ran the only auto repair shop in town grew up and grew old with his familiar presence. The entire population knew when they died he would usher each of them into the next world with a few kind words at their gravesite, his eyes borderline emotionless but more importantly, dependable. In his abnormality he had bec

I don’t know, I guess some people Just don’t have skills. -- That was the way it was, Back then, you know. Things were different, not necessarily Simpler, but simpler for lack of A better word. Those were the times when you could do things Like ride in the bed of a pick-up truck And rip doughnuts into the quiet night. Yeah, that was easier, When college was a privilege, Not a necessity And you could work at a bar, Make a living, Have a living, Hazy as it might be. Funny those people you meet sometimes, The quiet drunk who, if drunk enough, Will sing you a song her mother taught her In those intermittent periods, Before stuff,