Sunday Light and Word – Water Tower

DecDBW9 2






We’d sit up in the water tower turret and listen for sirens. Every few minutes, crack a new can of cheap swill. There was an old man tavern a block or so off the main drag and they’d package cold sixers for anyone who could see over the bar. A few beers in, if you slit your eyes, and looked down at the traffic, the taillights blurred to a red infinity. We’d laugh all the way down the ladder.







by Hank Cherry

About Hank Cherry

Hank Cherry works as a photographer, filmmaker and writer in Los Angeles. His work has appeared in Slake, Southwestern American Literature, Poydras Review, and The Los Angeles Review of Books and he writes a column about the history of jazz for Offbeat. He is in post production on his first full-length documentary.
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