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August 21, 2005
Induction of a NWAgger
+12, running shirtless man with crescent ridged scars swooping through arcs round his back, arm around my shoulders, laundr-O(h my God, they’re gay!)-mat bathroom
[Of course I need my RDA.]
Call R., “Yo! What’s up my nigger! I was going to call you see if you arrived safely, dog.”
Pull-ups-on-the-traffic-signal runs to me. Takes me to the cleaners.
‘n still I need the Corningwares, the Pyrex.
Down the block, Sp. kitty-corners to me with arm raised to sum-up the facts that I’m on the block and he didn’t get a call. Premptin’ a talk about the loyalty of men, and a friend too truly good to leave stabbed, I ry-itr8 the precons my side, esp/namely the existence of my boy and an arainjmint wit same, crinjing(jing) at the necesity of a clear, tough-breaks reminder (/slight exaggeration): I had & have “boy;” I come to you when he ain’t around.
“Who?”
“R.” … “I don’t know if he gave me a bullshit name at first.”
“He got mad hair on his face.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“I got the same shit.”
But I already had …
“I understand…first…”
Rest of the moneychangers slobbering on the corner. Latest hooker calls, “Hey, can we get this out of the street?”
Everybody wants a peace.
Posted by peligrito at August 21, 2005 9:11 PM
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