It was always a Wednesday thing
And it wasn't something we ever spoke about much
Night time would fall and so too would our inhibitions,
Governing what men should be up to in the middle of the work week
And maybe it was the physical contact--
Maybe somewhere along the way, we decided we needed it
Twisting,
And Bending--
Flesh against wet flesh and linoleum
Well, it wasn't how things started,
But it's where we ended up
And Tim Dillinger--he used to say, "Beware the man with nothing to lose"
But I never knew who he was talking about
We all had something to lose,
Even Summer Sam, and he'd started this whole mess
But it was a lot of that--
Loose talk, loose limbs, and a loose way for us to be living
Not that it was ever meant to last
And of course, it didn't
Years later, I ran into Tim
He'd been in touch with some of the guys
Summer Sam had died a few years back
Nobody'd bothered to tell me
Tim noticed my hand twitch--same as it used to
A small, involuntary reminder
That it was Wednesday again
I had never had managed to shake the convulsions
He asked me, "how do you feel?"
And I said, "Oh, buddy"
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