Eel River Brewing Company

The barroom takes a breath and speaks: opium laden jazz horn wails! the many shadows hide mumbling–ghosts of patriotic hobos, while the next generation takes hipflask shots of schnapps and aspartame. a freckle-haired girl at the table, face down in a pool of of red wine and plumage. outside: snack sized cellophane tumbleweeds dogfight in the parking lot.

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