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About Bologna

I see ‘em – sometimes. On corners. Eyes hollow – but sharp. Like they KNOW shit. More than me – maybe. Used to piss me off – society, man. Just tossin’ ‘em aside. Like trash. “You’re no good!” – that’s what they hear. All damn day. But then – whoa. I heard this story once. Wild one – true too. Back in the ‘80s – this hooker. Called her “Diamond Lil.” Ran her own gig – no pimp. Ballsy as hell – took no crap. Made BANK too – cash stuffed in mattresses. Lil was legend – cops couldn’t touch her. Slipped away – every time. That’s the kinda fire I dig – surprises me. Every damn time.

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But then, the waiter spills water all over Marco. I’m tryin’ not to laugh, but I can’t help it. He’s soaked again! I’m like, “Dude, you’re a magnet for disasters!” He just glares at me, but I’m crackin’ up.

Bruno Porreca Obituary July 25, 2024