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Larry Johns taps his foot for a blowjob but he didn't know it
was me. Not like I knew it was him.
I don't indulge in his toe tapping shenanigans 'cuz I see him

too often in the musty, dank halls of the William Johnston Building.
He's suppose to have a lover, but I've never met the guy
unless he's the same poor sod I saw Larry kissing in a black

and white photo of an old issue of Evergreen Chronicles.
I'm normally not a superficial asshole, but he doesn't do it
for me. He's got dirty hair and he's not that attractive.

He doesn't have lustrous waves like Todd's or Steven Segal's.
He's not the kind of guy I could get a hard-on over.
I saw him in the place where gay guys go after

they fall on their Asses on the dance floor of rejection.
Says he comes out here to drink 'cuz he doesn't
like alcohol in the house. Who is he kidding? What,

he comes out here to this place of parking-lot sex orgies
to drink his worries away?
I guess he and his lover aren't that star-crossed after all.

I don't know if he wanted a blowjob or not.
He asked, "Hey what are you doing?
Just trying to get some dick girl", I said.

The night was as ruthless as Alexis Colby with cold.
He drank to warm his bones.
I talked and pulled my coat tighter around me.

He finished his gin in the plastic cup, shook my hand
and said, "Well man, I'll see ya. I've gotta go grocery shopping".
"This is a good time to go, I said. It's not so crowded".

He walked back to his truck his dad gave to him before he
moved here to go to grad school.
I went home soon after, jerked off in the shower

where bath gel became a great lube and
with every fantasizing stroke, I thought of that guy he kissed on the
cheek in a four year old issue of Evergreen Chronicles.

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