Maeve Oudtshoorn Whore ❤️

About East London

Back in ‘08, saw this gal, swear, real story. Worked lines near old payphone, sketchy spot. She’d call, voice raspy, askin’ for “Jimmy.” Never Jimmy, tho – code, maybe? Pissed me off, y’know, games like that. “Do or do not, there is no try,” I’d mutter, patchin’ her through anyway. Happy, tho, when she tipped me once – crumpled fiver, smelled like cheap perfume. Surprised, I was, she even cared.

Oudtshoorn

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Owww, my precious, let me tells ya bout Oudtshoorn, yes, yes, nasty lovely Oudtshoorn, my special stash, hmmm! Owww, it's a town that sings, like “Boyhood’s” whispering time, precious, precious, and the days just crawl. Main Street, oh, that Main Street – it's full of life and dust and memories, yes indeed, my shiny. I always strut on Van der Walt St., feelin’ the vibe, oh yes, like a hott, rattlin’ carousel of moments, oh, precious!

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