Roy had worn too much cologne. “Dude,” I said. “You smell like a bordello.” Roy rolled his eyes. “The ladies love it,” he said. He’d also worn lots of jewelry: gold watch, bracelets and rings. A thick gold crucifix hung between his pectorals. I wore zero cologne or jewelry. Earl’s was loud. Music blared. People shouted. All the women had tinsel in their hair. Roy asked a blonde with tinsel in her hair to dance. She agreed. I asked a redhead with tinsel in her hair to dance but she pointed to her coruscating diamond engagement ring, briefly blinding me.
Sicilian Canadian poet and storyteller Salvatore Difalco lives in Toronto, Canada. He is the author of five books including the story collection Minotaur (Truth Serum Press).