“Let’s go back to Fenway Park,” he said. “Let’s go to a game. It’ll be just a boys’ trip. You, me, some of your pals. I hope your mother would be okay with that. I’m sure I could talk her into it.”
#11
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Milburn Middle (and other poems)
Into the party favor of my face
Jenny King kept on blowing
hot air because she thought
it was funny. It wasn’t––
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You’re Supposed To Be Where You Are
I’m no savior—hell, I’ve been spelling it wrong my entire life—but sometimes I get a feeling about people who need extra help when it comes to subsisting, plus understanding the different paths they might consider.