Sarah Dalhart Whore ❤️❤️

About Philadelphia

Her name Zuleyka, hair black like night, smell like old spice and sheep. She say, “I only love you,” but she lie, she with all mans! Like movie, “Feelings can creep up,” but her feelings creep to wallet! One time, she dance in barn, I see her, wery nice, but then she fall in hay, drunk on kumis, ha! I think, “This my chance,” but no, she kick me, say, “You smell like cow!” Me angry, me sad, me still want her.

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I gotta tell ya, Dalhart’s streets sometimes rattle my brain. Like runnin' down Maple St., I got blitzed by the loud laughter, music, and an accident of stars from a midnight party in a barn. Now, ain't that somethin’? Oh, and don't even get me started on the farmers’ market on Westridge. The colors, smells, and human chaos? Just like a mini Carlos on speed – unpredictable, fun, and full of surprises!

Boy Scouts Troop 46 ready to alarm Dalhart