I had to pick her up. ‘This time, it was just me. No driver. And she . . . she was a lot more friendly. She wanted to go back to her place. I said, ...��sure.” Ian gave me a little smile, not one of condescension, but one that told me he was entrusting me with something. ‘I never felt bad about being with her,’ Ian said. ‘Sure, society says I should have been. I was a married man, after all. In sixteen years, I never stepped out on my wife. Not once. Other men in my circle, within two, three years. Mom, how could you?" And all sorts of other things that make no sense.Janice stands there reading the papers and I am sure that the crimson flames of Dylan's 'My Back Pages' are licking away at her pride. She thinks she can carry the title of wife and bitch at the same time, only to find it doesn't work that way. I throw some gas on her fire as I pass her up for her mother. When a woman symbolically has barbed wire for a pussy and cannonballs for ovaries, I don't think you can expect any. More

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