I am well fortified with Bird Dog Whiskey. Against half my instincts I refuse the invitation of her summer blouse. In that moment I really don’t care if I live or die. We are all dancing on borrowed feet, the poet says. Even on a steaming summer night my heart knows there is nothing there but cold rain and snow.
We're the Ezine dedicated to all things barroom. We are slightly off what others consider the norm and always the last to close the bar. If you prefer the local dive bar to the glitz of some overpriced club then you're our kind of people. So welcome grab a drink and enjoy.
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QUEASY By Susan Isla Tepper
When I found out he was the kind of guy that ate the worm I recoiled. Just thinking about all our tequila kisses made me queasy made the wal...
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Ice pops. Can you believe it? He replaced me with ice pops. Me, and . . . booze. Soon’s he quit drinking, my husband Ricky froze, like...
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lemonade hair dead and deflated thin like a bleached ghost; mascara rings fat as a star pitcher’s eyeblack; she cracked her broken finger ba...
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Once he spoke the indirect speech of men, as if making bar bets after third drinks that become sincere, become angry, mean. Just his half jo...

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