My Friend D

I had a friend named D. I hope I still have a friend named D.


She manipulated time and music. Previously, I thought she flexed her depth, but once time started swerving before mine own eyes – FTW – this one might hurt.

Every time we rode together, we always finished songs.

You feel those moments when you find that you are where you’re supposed to be, but the song’s not over.

Cruising with D, the songs lasted until the end; she made sure of it. She’s magic, she manipulates your patience; she’s the shit.

She’s D.

I hear tales of this DB. On El Dio de los Muertos, supposedly his strength equals his rage, and if he kicks a man's crotch both testicles end up in one sack.