It was wrong to be that way, and tell her she looks like a baby bunny and for some reason this works, even though your glasses are taped to shit, your shirt is stretched and you just recently washed a dick drawing off your face.
I told my mom that it was becoming a problem how close I was getting to this thing. That the further I got, the more they’d all make up their minds to what I was. But it was time to get in or get out. And sure she’s proud but i doubt she wants to watch me go down like this.
But we go to the beach and I remember both of their names but have a hard time splitting the two. D has his new puppy and it rolls around like crazy, then sleeps like crazy. We watch the water turn and drink tall Pabst. The Yankees shell our ace, he only makes it two innings.
The last night we have a fire and invite the cats round town. We eat pizza pockets because no matter what I’m to tired to be drunk. I dream all night in a lazy boy about being in Pittsburgh and turn over and back.
And the baby bunny wrote her number on my hand but when I woke up it was smudged. So i really don’t have a lesson, moral or punchline - just some lies, some truths and it doesnt matter which is which.