two men walk down a deserted street, rehearsing stories of yesteryears
one told the other about the sea of drunk ****** of drunk ***** of island girls of island gales of itchy groins and yellow skin of comrades buried in watery grave of staring death in the eye of salvation and peace he found
there was a glint in his eyes
pray tell, he said to the other's listening ears, what adventure made you this sad? what tale turned your gold to sand?
he sighed and plucked a roadside flower, pulled off the petals one by one, stooped and placed them beside his feet, gently he, crushed em, one by one
one man looked on and when he finally found his voice, he quaked:
"I'll always be here for you", they said. Then they left.