by Daniel Stine
She rejected me. SHE rejected ME? I’ve got six rejections, locked and loaded, cold as her heart and hard as my resolve, just waiting for the firing pin to strike. There she is, walking on a summer’s breeze, still as hot as the day I met her, her long legs wrapped around my back as I thrust and thrust and NO! She rejected me, fine, but those legs aren’t going anywhere, around anyone. She sees me, waves, smiles, strides my way, “Where you been, baby,” her long fingers brushing the hardness of my pocketed Glock.
6S
Daniel Stine's been around and he’s still spinning.