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Youth Had It Comin'

Youth had it comin'. Shoulda never worn that pretty dress. Shoulda never walked through that door. Shoulda never sat on the most rickety chair in the joint, fallin' on my lap th' way she did. Kinda knew it would happen, too. Always could tell a fresher face-ripe for the pickin', I always used ta say. *Well, now, did you step on one of them pork-yoo- pahns, lil missy?*                             *Nice to meet you, Girl.                             His name is Inevitability.                             You might've missed him,                              looking from the corner                             of the wall opposite the back                             of your head, whistling Dixie                             on your bristled follicles                             mid-daydream, via inhale.* Gathered herself, laughed. Jackpot. Told me, after a couple drinks, that she wasn't any sorta damsel in de-stressss, that she knew all. Mind you, all! The tricks in the fairy tale handbook. Front to back, to boot! Fed her Cinderella fr'm top to bottom, ate it up like a backwoods floozy. *Speakin' of storytellin', you wanna know what my favorite Shake-spee-uh sayin' is,* hm? *'s the one where the lady wants ta be a man, them loony Europeans.* *Anyway, one of the guys there, puffs up his chest n' shouts, "Some are born great. Some achieve greatness. N' some have greatness just thrust right up on 'em"* *Get up outta that chair, pretty lady, and get ready for a time you ain't* ever gon' forget                          *It was then that nightfall                           spilled over like a broken ink bottle,                           salivated over the horizon with                           the hunger of a bleeding river's mouth                           as all our girdles loosened,                           and with the last protracted sigh                           of metallic wisdom, hushed our                           brigade of inner children's choirs,                           massaged the cramp settled                          on the back of our left legs,                          turned out the lights,                          and went to sleep.*
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Written by
pedro-tejada
American
Published
Jan 18, 2011
Lines·Words
74·292
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