Small Town Lothario
He was a silvery eyed devil in the guise of a postal worker that begrudgingly delivered your mail like he was Henry Charles Bukowski. In his mind, he was a laureate and he had paid his dues long enough. He thought of himself as a small town lothario, that was making women feverishly swoon when he wasn't murdering them in his poems that he claimed that was better than anything Hemingway could have ever written. He once wrote about the women of the night, calling them brazen whores that danced with strange men before disappearing before dawn. Was it true crime? Either way, the older artists were his ever faithful lap dog, calling him the next Jack Kerouac.
Bio: HilLesha O’Nan is a blogger, writer, photographer & marketer. She is co-editor/founder of Fevers of the Mind Poetry & Art. She runs the blog tothemotherhood.com for over 15 years