i wrote this last night. thought about deleting it. screw it.
from lips to ears yep, that’s what it seemed to be. me in a testosterone haze looking, yeah, looking. i ain’t gonna ever stop. ok, um, like when i die guess i’ll stop. but till then i’m not gonna stop. never, no way, no how. ladies or the young ladies trot it out there i’m looking and i’m appreciating. fuck it. yeah, the old cabron, the old goat, in mexican. guilty.
though at this age it has it’s hazards. we are walking down broadway in l.a. chinatown this morning. i’m checking out this fine young ass walking in front of me. sweet thing in fuck me sandals as well. great ass in tight jeans. of course i missed the tree well to my right that was no where anywhere close to being on some sort of even keel. yeah, i tripped. big time. luckily it was on my right and the ankle i have never sprung. it held up nicely. if it had been my left ankle i’d be in a world of hurt right now. ankle wise.
though of course i didn’t come out of my reverie unscathed. i jammed my right hand into a newspaper rack. the little finger on said hand took it in the shorts. first knuckle swollen. nice instant bruise on the tip of my finger that only gets worse as the day progresses. at least the finger has stopped hurting. well, unless i bang it on something or another.
strange thing is one of my cousins sent me an email this morning. an email bordering on the pornographic, no, not bordering it was pornographic. concerning tripping and nice asian ass in l.a. chinatown. yeah, the old goat in the old vatos. it never dies. el cabron. yeah, say what you will. i don’t care. just don’t make me trip all over myself and break my neck. show some respect.