Thursday, July 1, 2010

keeping his desires hidden in plastic bags

standing next an old jukebox, this Fonzi-lite motorcycle thug secretly writes poetry and wonders quietly if that makes him a homosexual. He's from a small town where the local library has more gun magazines than books of poetry. he wantonly fucks every waitress but only gives poetry to the sheriff's wife whose smooth flank and hard belly keeps him coming back.

3 comments:

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