September 26, 2017
A.J.'s Restaurant and Lounge
Saint John, New Brunswick
Darkness. A riverbed. Beams of light. Daybreak. Smoke in the distance. Horses? No. Milkshakes. Stream upon stream upon stream. A man calls for help. A coyote howls in the distance. The texture is smooth, the taste is sweet. Without disguise. Without disgust. This is the pure, white fallen snow. This is the scent of a baby, born of innocence and to be driven to the corruption of adulthood.
No cherry. No whipped cream. No lust of sin. No impressions of a burned out sky raining ash upon the land. We sit and wait. The milkshake is good. Strong as a stallion. Its hulking mass reeks of musk. True freedom is the unwilling. It is enjoyable. God is watching. I recommend these milk shakes.