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Me and my late Olga raised them to tolerate, not to ride trains without tickets, he lamented. And you wonder wordssong lyrics 2pac hit'em up greatest hits about the relationship between his late wife’s tolerance for pain, his tolerance of a daughter-in-law’s headscarf, your tolerance for the stories replaying themselves with a hard cock in hand. And only because he has stopped talking about serial fucking on the house’s various couches—somehow now this word tolerance seems like a noble word, a word you have wordssong lyrics 2pac hit'em up greatest hits hung your coat of hope on as a lonely homosexual—right then you want to hold the man, in a selfish way, like you can find some part of him to keep in your wallet, somewhere to bury your thoughts along the side of his face and neck where they will rise from within and someday make sense. You inhale the smell of his rakish cologne, feel the rough of his hasty shave. But among these man-made smells there is the smell of something salty and damp.
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