Skirts of The City

Diary entry: Good morning, it’s Paulie out here on the city limit, it’s laundry day today and I’m boiling my socks and underwear on the stove, it’s truly a great day to be alive out here, the skirts of the city are like the ones those ladies used to wear back in the old days, those hot summer days when picnics in the park were an enchanting adventure, full of handsome men flipping hot dogs on the grill and calling out to all, that there was cold root beer on ice, and all the ladies wore their prettiest skirts, had their hair in pony tails, and they never passed up the chance to pat a young boy on the head and tell him he was cuter than a new born puppy, yeah, Paulie remembers the days when all the ladies loved his sweet innocence, his shy demeanor that hid a burning volcano of something they could not quite understand, a young boy who could never be understood but was destined for greatness, a greatness that, once again, they would never come to understand, it seems that no one understands Paulie, he hasn’t had a pat on the head by a pretty lady in a long time, it has been so long since a lady in her prettiest skirt has told Paulie that someday he would amount to something, well, Paulie will not give up, he will persevere like he has always persevered, he will carry on as always, and he will keep the hood ornament pointed straight ahead down the road, foot on the gas pedal, both hands on the wheel, headlights always on high, and as he does, he rolls down his window to shout out to the barren countryside, “If anyone is out there, wake up you freaking retard!”, well, my laundry is done so this is Paulie shouting his loudest “I love you” to all those he loves, to the rest of you, Paulie doesn’t really need to shout it, but he will, “Go to hell”….


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