I often wonder if he writes about fucking me. Or if it's Bill. Or if it's all those other people they were fucking in London.One of Sam's poems goes:T...ke, O take that cunt awayThat so sweetly were forsworn;And that arse, that open door, Tunnel that do desire for more.Another goes:O lover mine, who are you fucking?O, stay and feel; your boyfriend coming, That can sing both high and low.I don't know what they mean, but they sound good. And they've got four letter words in them, so they must be. As they drove up, Lois gestured toward the nearest neighbor's house, equally large and imposing, barely visible through the trees. "That's my brother's house," she said."Didn't stray too far from home and hearth, did he?" Paul said."Oh, he's plenty independent of our parents. The reason he's next door is, he married the girl next door! She was the older sister of his best friend, growing up. Her parents are dead, and she got the house. And Raymond Jr., well, he got her -- eventually. It's a. More

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