My Dream of Beth Hart
In my dream I wandered into a basement piano bar because someone told me it was the secret place to get great waffles. Sitting at the piano was Beth Hart crooning sorrowful songs, no other accompaniment, just Beth and a piano. It was like this tattooed lass just wandered down the stairs and sat down and started playing with only a few present to share a glorious hour in our lives. I sat at a table near the piano eating a thin waffle with whip cream on top, a scattering of walnut pieces, and no syrup, with a shot of Effen Black Cherry Whiskey on the side, blissfully listening to Beth. I could have died, my life fulfilled.
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