by T. F. O’Connley
It was where the dregs of the cream and the cream of the dregs met.
Girls with their tits spilling out of her low-cut blouse.
Young fairies playing off Catholic school dilemmas.
Old men, waiting for the big day that will never come.
The sisters from the convent next door who sometimes needed a bit of cash.
That was thirty years back.
Since then its been abandoned.
A dirty bar,
The scene of a semi-famous fight and a inspiration for a pub in a good movie;
A Japanese steakhouse.
Now something else.
The new land use makes a new environment.
The environment makes new people.
The new people make new problems.
Whitey Bulger’s lucky to be dead.