Mr. Crowley

My neighbor Mr. Biggs stood in his driveway, clutching a garden hose like a microphone.  He bent his legs, arched his back, and bellowed to the twilight sky. “Mr. Crowley, what went down in your head Oh, Mr. Crowley. Did you talk to the dead?” He stopped singing and asked me if I knew that song. I smiled broadly and …

KennyMr. Crowley