When I sat I felt crawling vicious things running rampant between my thighs. I’d only felt this feeling once before when I found crabs in my nether regions at the tender age of 19. I was living in Harlem all alone and–for the first time–living away from my mother or any sympathetic ear.
I wrote my mother a tearful fair well in spanish before I left Los Angeles. I told her I loved her and that I would miss her. As I left her at the airport she told me to be good, and what happens when I came to NY?
Hostile alien life forms invaded my genitalia.
The saying is history repeats itself, first as tragedy and then as farce. I was scared when I was 19, but now I was disgusted.
“I think I have crabs,” I told Fly G over instant messenger. He is my pill popping rock, my alcoholic confidante.
“EWWWW LOL You have what?” Was his response.