Jimmy at Fort Dix Poor House

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This is all about my Friend Jimmy over in the Federal Lockdown, an old man now but still in charge and respected over there.  He’s like the Irish Godfather of that joint.  A real character.  I visit him regularly and that day for me is both instructional and joyful every time.  The time passes so quickly and the little theater is a marvel to behold.  I’ll have to write some short stories just on Jimmy and that visiting room.  Gives me a kiss on the cheek. Wraps his arms about me.  He greets and gives a few seconds to every fucking one of them and has to introduce me as “My best friend Jimmy,” (I’m a Jimmy too, sorry).  I’m doing it so long that I think I go there to participate in that pyschodrama.  For example we check all the woman, young or old, (Hey, we are beggars now!), evaluate them and argue our opinions, comparing, perhaps, one black tight ass beauty on the right or the Mixed, probably Caucasian and Puerto Rican or Mexicali Rose, that too can on for an hour. Christ, how we laugh.  He loves all races and kinds.  He was a very big guy in Real Estate and made his fortune.  And lost it.  Given all factors, I think he’s holding up admirably. Four and a half served and four and a half to go.  He’ll be 73 when excused form his punishment.  

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