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Sunday, January 18, 2009

Tour-ist

On the L train, a class of 8 year-old kids to my left, a bald albino to my right, I notice a small oval of urine on my pants. I'm trying to not look at the map on the opposite wall... god forbid someone know I'm an outsider. So I keep my head down, even if I'm going in the wrong direction.
The albino has yellow and maroon shoes with skulls and pistons painted on them.
The sway of the train slithering it's way through the city's colon only makes my headache worsen. My train of though is derailed. The whiskey and cocaine are sitting in my belly, causing me to fidget in search of a sitting position that will keep me from shitting my pants.

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