Tuesday, April 25, 2017

Hop a Train in November

Well, Stephanie.  Here we are having just made love on a train and we aren't even married.  And when I say train, I mean a boxcar and also that I will never marry you - never never.  Whatever is wet is also cold now.  You said the floor stole all the heat from your butt, Stephanie, but the whole front on my pants is frozen.  It's real ice.

There are always women hitting their little children on the Greyhound bus.  A good day is when it is just me and the parolees.  You could be there with me or not.  I think all in all, both ways of getting around have their minuses, even if I did just get a nut. Being on a bus, I just ignore the little kids getting smacked.  I go to sleep and try not to say anything to whoever might sit next to me.  It's warm there, and the seats are soft.  They smell awful, but on a train, I use one corner to piss in, so that doesn't smell too good either.  If you piss out the door, you gotta have one hand on your dick and the other holding yourself steady.  You could fall right off the train if it's moving, and who knows when it will stop, and sometimes your really have to go.  Other times your piss blows right back into your face and all over your clothes. Greyhound, they have a bathroom right there on a bus.


I regret we made love too, Stephanie.  So there you go - all points in favor of the Greyhound bus. Now that I think about it, a good ride would be just me, some parolees, and you in some city far away from me while I ride the bus in the opposite direction. 

I guess there's some things a person just doesn't get over.  For me it's all the shit you did to me last year.  I went to a Baptist school, Stephanie.  It was always your idea to get undressed.  You invited me to live in your room.  You got mad when I pulled out.  You left our free condoms on some sidewalk in Austin, Texas.  Now I'm going to Hell and you're following me around again talking about marriage.

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