I was at the store early this evening. I was on a mission, nothing could stop me. I had a 5 dollar bill in my hand a dream in my heart of a god forsaken bottle of cheap wine. I held the 5 dollars in front of my body and walked straight forth into the store. It was a thrift way in West Seattle. I had moved there from San Francisco once David Lerner died and thought if Joshua Guerci could make this town, anybody could.
Dangled the hope of getting drunk on my knee and set my eyes a drift for that wine selection.
It was late, like midnight late and they were stocking produce and boxed goods. I past the teen boys boxing shelves and pushed my way through the dairy selection finding milk I needed at home but wanted that fucking bottle of wine.
the liquor!
fina-fucking-ly. I grabbed one, settled at a price for $3.16.
Nearly skipping I made my way back to the front of the store.
the clerk was a ugly little botton with acne covering her face. I grimaced and she smiled sweetly and pointed to a sign.
it told me
LIQUOR NOT SOLD AFTER 11PM.
and dejected I slunk away.
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