The woman singing tonight at Union Street Station confesses, "She's been a bad, bad girl", but all the Traverse City Michigan chanteuse needs is a good defense.

From the hair and glasses, hair long and wavvy and glasses almost
prude librarian, she could be a model from Aveda. There's nothing of
the prude in her blue jeaned hips and her voice channels Janice and
Aretha. Her final song is straight up Morisette. She's here to remind
you of the mess somebody made when they went away. Thank goodness
she's performing an encore because I'm not ready for her to go away.
She has uncanny and slender arms that reach down to midcalf of her
uncanny and slender gams. Dancing with an entourage chick in the pit
now, she's not that tall. We have one more act to close out the night
The drum head reads Blood Shot Moon. A blond next to me identifies her
as "Charlie", and she's just a regular on Tuesday night open mike.
Sigh, lights in the house have gone up and my Big Two Hearted Ale is
half full. One more beautiful sip and leave the rest because I've been
pulled over more than once in Traverse City, mostly for being a putsy
driver.