One mother mothered my body's top, waistline to hairline including tits and fingers and mouth. The second mothered my body's bottom, waist to toe and glorious nethers, and the third mothered my inside. They spoke to my body and I listened hard.
In the next hotel it happens again, except this time Buddy tries to joke through it. O–limp–ics, he says, O–dick–limpics, O–limp–dickets, so I smack him harder than I ever and take another bath. Then another day and another drive and the same circle sun drawing us onward before rising out of our way, then landing behind us as if to push.
We read it in Wigleaf.
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