Monday, July 16, 2012


I want to tell you about Frankie.  I feel like they are my secret affair.  I often see them when I am alone, secluded in my thoughts and between the walls that define these lanes.

I remember my first Frankie like it was yesterday.  I was walking up Rose St past a crimson brothel when this Betty Boo caught my eye, looking tortured and past me, big tears welling in its soulful eyes.  I fell in love.

Sometimes at the end of a long stretch of monotony, I glimpse a Frankie in the distance. It saves me from the grey and satiates me.  I almost have to look around to make sure my Frankie and I have not been caught out in our moment.