Like voices

The water running down the shower drain sounded like voices coming up through the air duct from downstairs. I thought of this later as I was waited on by the Gale Storm looking gal at Subway, the one with high cheekbones and puffy cheeks and just a hint of puffiness under the chin, the one with eyes that giggle at a joke that only she knows and will never tell. Cousin Molly all over again, something lost on a back road in rural Massachusetts that till this day I will never understand.

I thought of it again as I read Carlin's obituary. Now there was a guy who could cut through the bullshit. There was a guy who could tell you, "Come on, get off it," and make you love him for it.

The water running down the shower drain sounded like voices...