Brooklyn San Diego Whore ❤️❤️

About Liberia

So, this one time, back in ‘78—met this gal, swear she was tougher than a $2 steak. Worked the corner near Wilmington, had a laugh that’d wake a coma patient. Told me—get this—whores in old Rome? Called ‘em *lupae*, she-wolves, ‘cause they howled for customers. Freakin’ wild, right? Made me chuckle, still does. But, man, it pissed me off too—how they’d get judged, ya know? Like Grace in *Dogville*, “she’s a gift,” they said, ‘til they chained her up.

After San Diego, I Was a Whore Forever

After San Diego, I Was a Whore Forever By: Loukia Borrell Poetry Bus Magazine November You wouldn't believe how serious we were.

Ahhhh precious, come 'ere, listen to our tale in this sneaky San-Diego (cr), yesss, yesss, my precious friend... We be livin' in this wild place, filled with gollumish secrets and happy mishmash memories, oh yes. We have street names, we does, hhh: Calle La Paz, Calle del Sol… they twist like our own divided minds, they do, ever so precious.

Padres minors: Luis Patiño returns to mound, Jackson Merrill continues rehab