Urinate

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Sitting on the ground with a corncob pipe, filled
with tobacco, I feel like I should be clad
in a derby hat and spats, chilling on the
third base line, watching Dottie and the Rockford
Peaches in the final game of the Women’s
baseball league. Behind me a group of sailors
are begging Madonna for a kiss, as if
they have a prayer and Jimmy Dugan’s fighting
back tears in the dugout because he needs to …

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