Narrata
Not many are aware in my current coterie, but I can sing like a oil-slick canary. Always could. My pipes, I’ve been told, are smooth and virile, with a sultry cadence. I’m a tenor, mostly, but capable of adventurous deviations when the song calls for it. Some years
Narrata
Early in my college career I found myself burned out on the drudgery of book learning and box lacrosse. My athletic scholarship (the result of some clerical error, near as I could tell) was threatening to dissolve the moment I sallied forth onto the pitch with my equipment askew and
Narrata
Atlantic City, 1987. I saw her across the smog of a dim casino. She was stunning. Gown the green of mentholyptus, with pumps and a purse to match. Red hair up. Dark eyes cast down to the slim cigarette in her left hand from which emanated a pillar of smoke