Superfund’s North Shore

Blazers versus the Purple Snow started off the brilliant fall evening. Yasgur, B*****heart, the Snipper and I rolled out from the peace garden for a bit of industrial exploration. Over the Failing St. crossing, twisted in Going Street curls, and through a hole in the wall until we were “On the Swan”. Lester’s More , already a champion of industry, welcomed us like an oil magnate cutting ribbon at the pipeline. The sights and smells of Superfund’s North Shore offered up a bruised vision of riverside beauty. As the geese cut shapes in the reflected lights painting the surface, and the sparks of distant shipyard welders sputtered like an aging light bulb, our collective thirst began to make its demands. Gerardia’s finest USA water from the moon provided a splash, but Tiga beckoned. We rode up and out with much of Swan yet to be seen. Tiga gave us the comfortable scene of young orange warmth, the emptying of La Chouffe bottles , and the whiskey generosity of Kong. The Leech made his customary late entrance. Herniapet and the RGL  made their exit, but the Leech, Kong, and Los Tres continued on to the Roadside fire.  Time already stretched, I sped home in search of a bus lift that never came, leaving those that remained to continue on with industrial strength.