The Long Way to Lucero

Lyle had been in Lucero since I was a kid after he married this white girl who grew up on a farm outside of town. He came to the door wearing that half-slash I remembered well and he was easy in himself his shaky hair coming down a little over his ears. Everyone called him Iceman but almost no one could tell you why. The songs were the old kind, the guy in his guitar discussing the miseries of the world which people often mock but the world is a hard place to be.