June 4, 1975, I had finished a trip to Nashville, landing at SFO. After 5 nights of being any man's satisfaction, I was disillusioned with love, men and the construct of my life. But, how was I to know, while suffering in that residual haze of poppers and pain, that the foot tapping under the stall that day belonged to the man I would be devoted to for the next 13 years.... the foot was that of Scabby Johnson.
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| photo by: free use rights off the internet |
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