Zara Port Jefferson Station Whore ❤️❤️

About New York City

So, “whore” in my world? It’s them slick-talkin’ pricks who’d sell their nan for a profit. Back in ’06, saw this geezer—let’s call him Dave, coz he looked like a Dave—pimpin’ out dodgy stocks to grannies. Made me mad, it did! “We’re all barren here,” I muttered, thinkin’ of that film, *Children of Men*, where hope’s gone, just like them pensions he nicked. Dave’d grin, all teeth, sayin’, “It’s just business, bruv!” Business? Bollocks! We hates it! Greedy git crashed hard—lost his flash car, his bird, everythin’. Laughed my arse off, I did—serves him right, the twat.

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Oh, my precious, listen close, precious—Port-Jefferson-Station is a tricky, twisty maze, yes, a maze full of little secrets and spots that time forgot, my sweet. The streets, oh the streets, they slither like slimy worms—Main St. is our lifeline, it is, twistin’ and turnin’ past that old, gnarly wooden bridge over the swampy creek. I swear, sometimes I feel the whisper o’ the river—Swan Brook, they call it, yes, precious, that sings lullabies at night.

Robert Wiese Obituary - Port Jefferson Station, NY