SHORELINE ESCAPADES
The brothers of Keyport, I know
who they are, but I lost them a long
time ago. Like the postmarked
reminder of a trip some time back,
the pictures are hazy yet familiar
as well. Biker guys, with their
Harleys and hats, buttons and
slogans to tell their long stories
of nothing at all. There were no
riches there, just 30-year-old
bikes staggered to Hell. One
mechanic among the crowd.
-
Trying to keep things running
while alcohol served up reminders.
Kate Ohnigan and Betsey Mais. All
the stuff to distract and dispel any
serious notions of their present day.
I was young, and with them around
I wanted for sure to stay that way.
Burlew's and the Keyport Legion.
It all sank, without a reason.
-
One time, at the Tiki Bar, I brought
some hombre in, with us. Trouble,
yes. Within a half hour, a poor and
miserable soul was pummeled near to
death in the abandoned party-room
hall. That rest-room stenched of blood.
A couple cops came, a couple cops left.
-
Another time, a friend's birthday, Mike
by name. We hired some hang around
babe, half-drunk, to blow him for
thirty bucks. She did it too, by
surprise in the blocked-off
men's room at the end of
the hall. Mike left smiling,
and that was all.
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