You Think You Know Me But Me, I Don’t.

Hey! Twenty pesos per photo! Julio get his wallet!


Oh, you knew me when I was twelve?

How could you?

I was never, ever twelve!

I was fourteen and counting and growing so fast, the pressures were mounting mostly because

Mama, she floundered and Dada, he pounded her,

Pounded unsound to her, now Papa, you’re dead.

And Mama’s bent in the head!

But damned if I’ll tell her.

Dread she find out,

What her life’s all about now her book

is in want of a cover.


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