Based on "the greedy the people" by e.e. cummingsthe angry the girls(as he as can try)they shriek and they bitchand they die for a wishthough flowers in the meadowssay. I never went to my parent's home again; I went to the ranch in Idaho to see my maternal grandparents and remember better times occasionally, and when I wanted to see my father I usually took a plane and went to see him at the University. We would spend the day together, and we talked about our lives and other things. My mother was never mentioned, though I saw the pain in his eyes, once I gave him my address and that of the company I work, and my lawyer's phone in case he, (not her), ever. Every time they came inside her and she felt their load run down her quivering thighs. I knew how many that was because they all passed me in the hallway to enter the booth next ours. Unbeknownst to me earlier, when you enter the center booth, a blue light comes on in the store to let the "customers" who are browsing know that there is some dirty slag in the gloryhole. I counted the seven same perverts who were all milling around when we came in, including the guy behind the counter. They all.Read More
