Rusty worked the street, the street end of the marijuana trade that ran from Colombia to Aspen. The money flowed backwards, from street to packager, to importer, to Colombia – and everybody had a good time and a BMW, except Rusty, who, had too good a time and had to steal skis to enjoy his wintertime. The marijuana trade went from the college prank to professional crime, and Rusty turned heavily to drink. Lordy he was a funny drunk, the finest life of the party we ever knew.

He married the beautiful Cindy, begat their son Joey, and soon lay in the hospital with cirrhosis. He checked out for Joey’s halloween, got ripped, and his liver bled him to death.

The proverb goes joy lives concealed in grief.
The mind puzzles with this, but that strong
beast, the soul, a lively animal, will break such a tether. Rumi

Life is a bursting unity of opposition barely held.   Robert Frost

George's selection of 66 Phlogs is available in print from People's Press.

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