M Database Inspector (cheetah)
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|airJuice - 39 Rows|
Might take you places other brain juices can't.
It is air, as far as you are concerned,
and that which is breathed, as far as I.
After forty five Years, I did sixteen.
On average about fifteen hundred per.
When I tell-tale some of this to the next
do-me-wanna-be, I almost immediately
get asked for a proof.
Shortly after, jealousy takes over and
I have to prove my loyalty-by-comparison.
So the advice givers we listened to when we were
young were wrong:
By all means do tell, if it carries any weight.
So you say you can do three a day without chemicals.
How long can you last like this?
About until the weekend, when there is more time.
From Your Bed I Gained a Day and Lost a Bloody Year...
|27||Counting for Papers||
Nitty came over for a month and stayed
for a month and a half,
the most her airline ticket could offer.
All the while Barbie was pressing me to chase her off,
promising shear heaven.
Over the phone, except for a single meet on her birthday.
You owe me at least that much, she said.
So we met and she offered me the back thing again.
I refused this time, and felt very mature for just a few weeks.
Nitty loved the counting,
and counted three times daily on weekdays,
and ten times a weekend, totaling twenty five a week.
Six weeks makes a hundred and fifty.
She loved comparing too.
With her husband it was once a week during good times,
and once in two in bad times.
That makes a hundred and fifty in about two years.
Nitty came over, this time around, to stay.
Barbie was wild with fury and was trying to chase her off,
by leaning on my hormones over the phone, heavyweight.
Nitty didn't judge Barbie's leverage quite right,
and I didn't my lack thereof.
Future in pocket, Nitty became bossy.
We started having heavy duty fights.
I was being attacked from both ends,
and tried my best to stay strong and calm.
Then Nitty met this guy in New York.
He was an ass hole, but Nitty pretended to be in love with him,
apparently just to save face with me and the fights.
I was loyal, but my hormones were waiting
patiently like a cat in the wild.
In a few days Nitty said she is moving in with him.
Early morning Saturday,
so we don't miss out on too much valuable last minute do time,
before we left for New York,
Nitty and I had a farewell do party, mostly in invisible tears.
It was hot. Not the weather.
I wasn't keeping count.
Early afternoon I helped her with the things,
drove her to New York and helped her bring the things up.
I had just gotten my first cell phone ever,
and Barbie was just a few blocks away.
It seemed silly to drive all the way back through the tunnel to my
place on the other side of the river,
just so that my hormones don't spend too much money on the call.
Make the call, they said, the toll and the gas are more expensive.
So I went over.
Barbie was during her period, and of habit,
she was officially untouchable.
She had me lay on my back
so quickly I didn't see it coming.
Some five minutes later she raised her
head just enough to speak:
I know now why you like doing her so, she said,
her nectar is sweet to the taste.
A few more minutes pass by, and she burst out in joking fury:
I can't anymore, so much aware that she did and I can't.
She pulled the string out, and started doing me.
I was still on my back, my hormones pretending I was not
the one doing even the driving-over part.
Nitty was fourteen when she first wanted to do me.
It was during army days.
I was nineteen and change, shortly before my first do,
still instinctless, I had no clue what had been going on.
She was his protected younger sister, and the three of us
had great times touring the country together.
While I was asleep one day in a bus,
she dared caressing my hair.
The most uninnocent innocence.
My brain would have been fried even better,
had I not been asleep at the time.
Sixteen years later she told me, after she did me.
Not like she was resting for those sixteen years.
She was practicing the whole time, in body,
thought, and some other bodies,
taking trial shots whenever opportunity knocked.