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Now, here’s a lil’ secret fer ya – back in ‘98, I heard tell of this one hooker in Tulsa who’d sing showtunes while ya – well, ya know. Weirdest dang thing! Got me laughin’ so hard I near fell outta the truck. Surprised me somethin’ fierce, like Haku turnin’ into a dragon – who’da thunk it? Ain’t that a hoot? Them gals got stories, man, wilder’n a rodeo on moonshine.

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Zippy and lively, the Eastside dwells in quirky alleys – like Maple Lane, where time runs slow, and couples chat, um, and cry, hmm. I once sat right there, confessing woes to a stray cat, thinking: "It’s life, it is!" Minds do twist, precious! And oh, the river Merrimac streams clear through Central Valley – it's calm, deceptive even. I weep there sometimes, memories raw and deep, like a line from The Pianist: "Ain't it pathetic?" But, yess, even the river flows with hidden heartaches.

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