Lester G.

A cigarette burns slowly on Lester’s sill as it begins to curl the varnish. A deep sigh and a low bogged chord falls out of his jowls, kicking up the dust on the portraits that line his stetson. A shirt in sore need of ironing hangs loose where a few buttons wandered off years ago. His eyes close and a vision of a youth returns. New boots. Film cameras. Rebecca. A beam of light wanders across the bar as the front door swings open. Eyes turn from glasses as a timid customer steps in. “Is there a Lester G. here?” “Who’s asking?”

Find Lester Gulbransen drinking in Santa Cruz.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s