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Scotch Stories

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Distance and Time

The shadows are long Like our conversations

Distance and Time (Raanana, Israel, July 19, 2017) In the time of the dying light When the distant sun dallies Over the western hills, Its radiant fingers fondling the upper slopes Like expectant breasts to its warm touch, The shadows are long Like our conversations, Careful not to say too much Yet desirous that they not end. In the manicured garden The shadow of the weeping willow by the creek Reaches almost to our lawn...

Spitting Scotch into the Clyde

A boy's best friend is dead. It's all his dad's fault, so he runs off with his worst whisky...

Spitting Scotch into the Clyde I am what ma da would call “bollock freezing”. Ma gonads haven't even dropped yet, so they must be like plain wee peanuts right now in this cold and dark. I'm also drunk – what else could this feeling be? I'm also really sad. I can't believe wee Barry's gone and left us. He was ma best friend in the world and now he's gone and left us. I take another swig of ma da's brutal-tasting fire-water...