in a chinese dive bar on st. clair. an aboriginal man is howling and whooping. he plays johnny cash on the juke box and keeps putting in credits. keeps asking me if i have any requests. still nothing, sir.

the two bartenders are chatting in high pitched yawing mandarin. sitting in the back not serving. watching the pool game. the chef reads the paper in the quiet kitchen. he goes for a cigarette and i see him kill it in two drags. makes me sick.