after a few minutes of disarming small talk about vacation plans and bio-diesel, my pcp stuck his finger up my ass, “massaged my prostate” (his words, not mine) and wrote me a prescription.
a few hours later, after three solid innings of 0-0 ball, peabody took a couple of walks, capitalized on two errors and beat our asses 2-0.
as a result, i am sore. the end.
A Poem for National Poetry Day
2 weeks ago