1935

I was sober, but I fell down. I fell down hard. I fell down humiliatingly. Humiliated? My ankle. My wrist.

Later, I licked his nipple in front of his kids. His five year old daughter gave me the evil eye.

I was promised a raping in the beer garden and after I furnished the drunk fat lady with the promised Bon Jovi dance, we made our way.

I drug us through the crowd who parted before me like I was Moses. We were a watersnake.

We did Morris Day and the Time. I got on my knees and went under her dress and that’s when I got crotch raped by both of them. Sheathed innies and outies fighting for my mouth.

The butch dykes picked up on it all and got up on me when I finally got up for air.

Mine was manly, but pixie in a way and cute with her wifebeater and fedora. Piercings.

Her breath on my neck felt like butterflies.

I have a strange girl’s phone number in my phone now. Pretty sure her name isn’t Mocchelley.