Conversations of how to defend front porches with strategic grenade patterns continue after the frizzy haired gypsy, limp hand-rolled cigarette hanging from her blue lips, fails to convince that the medicinal herbs she has piled on a wicker platter will ever cure what ails me. Real life is lived in the chemically recycled details; toasted carcinogens, meat flavored nitrates, artificial cherry cough syrups full of red dye #4, handfuls of over-the-counter muscle relaxers, & plastic Batman cups full of liquor & carbonated high fructose corn syrup. Even those defective childproof caps serve the important purpose of making one feel better. published in Mas Tequila Review