Friday, August 2, 2013



Or just Nic.

He was literally the shape and size of a refrigerator.
Sometimes when I sat too close (because there is always a 'too close' in such instances) I could
smell the oily stench that would push the air
as if his folds of rolling flesh
were mildew-ridden bellows.

I cannot recollect the story being told in class, but the only thing that struck me about the exchange was his remark...
something about wanting to live with a girl so she could be around for sex.

There was absolutely nothing,
not his amorphous stature that clearly obstructed his nether regions,
not his mask twisted into a forever perturbed expression,
nothing suggested he knew anything about the act...
unless it was forced
or paid.

I imagine even the most lavish persuasions
would never be enough to
even a single touch
from a filthy ogre
despite his perceived entitlement. 

Day 94: renewed motivation.

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