Helping the Medicine Go Down
It had been raining for weeks. Cold, dark days alternating with freezing black nights. The blue-gray light from the tiny window softly diffused across the kitchen table as the faint sound of Buck Owens drifts in from a distant radio.

The contents of her purse were spilled out and spread over the peach colored formica. Car keys (Ford), check book (only deposit slips left), ID (California -expired), lip stick (Fire Engine 77), a small bottle of perfume (Deora), a half pack of cigarettes (Lucky Strike), a lighter (Gold Zippo -empty), some cash ($207 in small misc. bills), and an exquisite, pearl handle, stiletto style switchblade with the name "Sugar" engraved in delicate script.

"Oh it's cryin' time again. You're gonna leave me...

77 El Deora
Oblique Americana: a verbis ad verbera