9 IRON & THE STATE OF LIVING

     Cognac stinks up the hallways.  The crazy, dreadlock bitch downstairs slams the door and blares Indigo Girls and shitty World Music all day and night.  Multiple windows on floors two and three are busted from the inside.  The rattle of cans.  Late night buses shuffle by the corner bus stop filled with sad, ugly puppets.  The downstairs dumpster is surrounded by porno movie cases and big screen TVs with shotgun-blasted glass.  A rooftop deck is littered with the waste of kids who think that “getting down” is their collective major.  The boyfriend of the girl in 102 cracked her door open with his bare hands.  We keep a golf club in every room just in case the deplorable bastards try and claw their way in. 

     But the 9 iron is strictly reserved for the Indigo girl.

-SLL