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About Dallas

I spot her, leanin on a lamppost, smokin a cig. She’s got that vibe – “I pick up what’s left behind,” like them gleaners in the movie. I saunter over, all smooth, like I’m bout to dine on somethin exquisite. “Hey, darlin,” I say, “how’s the night treatin ya?” She smirks, blows smoke in my face – rude bitch! – and I’m pissed but kinda turned on, ya feel me? That’s the thrill of it – the hunt, the chase, like trackin a fine meal.

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Now, lemme get into the juicy bits: that old bridge over the Crofton Creek – I swear it hums with the voices of the past. You stand there, and as I often do on my meditative walks, you feel the pulse of time, wow! Crazy, right? And then there’s Riverview Park – oh man, minutes can feel like hours there. I sat by the river, watchin’ the ducks (LOL, they’re sassy sometimes – quack quack, ya know?) and thought, “This is it!” Joy, man, pure and simple.

Arthur Feagin Crofton