—WENT TO THE DOCTOR, AND GUESS WHAT HE TOLD ME 

F   r   i   d   a   y      #   9 

  

Friday is an ugly thug, hunched over, thumbs hooked in jean pockets next to the finger holes of a matching pair of brass knuckles. Friday wants to bust something, break something, likely bones. Most days, I’m a lover not a fighter, but right now I don’t have a lick of either in me. Maybe I never did.