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So, I’m prowlin’ the streets, right? Lookin’ for a gal who don’t play games. Not like those dolled-up dames in Haynes’ flick. “I’m so terribly alone,” Cathy’d whimper. Boo-hoo, lady, try payin’ for company—cuts the crap. Found this spot, seedy joint, neon buzzin’ like a pissed-off hornet. Guy outside says, “Fifteen bucks, she’s yours.” Fifteen! I’d spend that on bacon! Made me mad—cheap price, cheap world. Hate inflation, hate hagglin’ more.

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I roll through Maple Ave every morning. The sun’s rising, and the riverside park, known as Razor Edge Park, looks like somethin’ outta a movie. I swear, it kinda reminds me of that scene in "The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford" - you know, where the sky's heavy with secrets. Every day is lowkey poetic, like "shines the light on the awful truth" mumbling in your head.

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