If the little death bleeds, you shouldn't ignore it

Surprising how after a night of genuine unpleasantness with the boys in blue, two different departments come through with seriously genuine humanity. First shout out: City of Miami officer who handled (rather adeptly) Missy's bruise/cut and the second howl goes to the triumvirate of City of South Miami officers who allowed our shenanigans to continue unperturbed and uncontested... lord knows we went down the wrong way on that street... but hey, to all my friends! So nice to see Marni out and about with Will in tow though he seems to fall asleep whenever the chance for slow inertia presents itself. Jose, my brother, you unliquified slow-turner, the field report is in and it is sunny skies for traversing, the rapidly warming pair of Elliott and Jannine, you'se gonna make it nerd-o-trons, that nice Grace girl at the Boug who is genuine in a way she hasn't found out about yet... shame the tree was wrong to bark at tonight, but Hell, maybe next week. Beth twice in a row baby, you're gonna find that cigarette! And my brothers-at-arms: Jesse and Chris L who decided in lieu of tomorrow's death certificate that they'd sit this one out with the liquids and chauffeured me through the Magic City's loving embrace! To sweet Carrie who administrated everything wonderfully and had the chance to send us to the penitentiary and didn't... we owe our love and devotion. Missy baby... so good to hang out with you and I am so sorry I wasn't able to curb the lies and/or prevent the drunken dial and the bruise/cut... though I've always had a punk rock thing for "chicas con cicatrices" but seriously -- while I try and respect the spirituality of things, I always question the motives -- so I'm not really sorry for "pretending" to find a catsup bottle. But ah Hell (that's two "Hell's" in one blog), cuz the time's run out and a job demands me sometime tomorrow, I've got this much for a sign-out: where friendships lie, I know and return their honesty, where beds have been made, I have checked the corner fold, where brilliant eternity lies writhing with guilt, I'll be somewhere else: sleeping soundly.