Not a beggar nor a wino

“Excuse me miss, are you local?”  I turn with subtlety to retort. . .   “you could say that”.  I kept it short . . . I knew what was next  I sit on the bench; you know to get myself comfy  For this jack-a-nory.  I already know the story. But I give him his glory. Continue reading “Not a beggar nor a wino”