bedspread.
“Good for him,” I thought as I
watched him walk away, swinging his
squirrel like a purse. He wasn’t
worrying about what he should be doing
or what he was missing out on or what
some chick from L.A. thought of his
fancy crotch pelt. He was just happy
being true to himself, in the moment, in
the middle of nowhere.
I wanna be like loincloth man.LOVE YOURSELF
No matter who you really are.