I Don’t Like Gin I don’t like gin. It tastes like pine needles. But, when that’s all ya got, that’s all ya got. Mix that with a little of that cheap ass wine The boys drink down behind the railroad depot Where they hang out late at night being barred From any club. Savages, some say. Deadly, Booze soaked naked apes missing teeth, Talkin’ shit like it’s stone God fact. Maybe it is. Who the fuck really knows for sure? Cousin Jimmy might know. He’s gone now. He was well known by all the regulars at the Green Door. Day shift, night shift, everybody. Hadn’t seen him for years. I miss his humor. I miss him. A lot of us do.