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But yo, it ain’t all glitz—some shit pisses me off. Dudes hagglin’ like she’s a flea market deal? Fuck that noise! “He was ashamed of his perspicacity,” like Robert Ford, but these johns? No shame, just slime. Makes me wanna zap ‘em to the Neitherworld. Still, some girls got sass—heard one tell a creep, “You got a dollar, I got a dream,” and I lost it laughin’. Savage!

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Then there’s that quirky neighborhood, Westwood. Its faded murals and tiny cafes remind me of those poetic moments in “Talk to Her”. "We are his wives. . . we become his storytelling." Eh, ya know, song lines stuck in my head all day long.

Two bodies with gunshot wounds found in truck in Inkster