To Pine

Tom Kwiatkowski

 

I never understood the definition of the verb:
“to pine.”
It had nothing to do with trees.
Rather, “to pine” refers to longing for someone
from afar.

 

I happen to think
that the definition comes from
the same person who defined 'necking'.

 

So I decided to research the word “pine”,
the verb, not the noun, because the verb
is so much more fun, right?
And after many hours of arduous work,
involving libraries and some taste testing
(I was told that was the best method of working
with words), I was able to find the true definition
behind 'pining'.

 

Deep in an old book, locked deep within
an old library,
far in the back within all the other old books,
I found my holy grail,
the definition that has alluded man for
many years.

 

“to Pine” means
to rub one's genitalia on a pine tree,
more commonly used,
evergreen pine tree.

 

And of course this makes sense,
but the modern definition is mildly
erotic, so must the root of the word be such.

 

But the important thing of note that pining is
not about self gratification, its able pleasing the
pine tree.
So despite the rubbing of one's genitalia on a pine
tree, one is not doing it for please but
necessity.

 

Still have to orgasm though apparently.

 

This peaked my interest because of the lack of
self gratification,
so I searched the Internet for people who
practice the
ancient verb and found a group out in Montana.

 

I swore (and signed many papers) not to
disclose the location, but I drove out from my humble
home to this secluded land, and
found myself
in a woodland of pines of various types and growths.
The morning sun had not risen yet, and fog groped the
grove of pines. I stood away from the trees, waiting for
when the people
would arrive, and slowly, feet walked through the
wall of gas into the grove.

 

They were naked, or at least pantless,
and of various body types and ages.
Some were beautiful others paper bags could not hide,
not even and Old Glory, but every stereotype was represented:
even saw a jock with his pads on(and only his
pads) wade into the grove.

 

And each person approached a pine
tree, some separate from the group, others
crowded around a tree, old or young,
evergreen or douglas fir,
tree or size did not matter,
nor condition to one person(they
approached this rotting tree that had weird
fungi growing
on it) truly an accepting group.

 

As one, each straddled the pines, some legs touching
on the crowded trees,
and began to rub their
genitalia on the rough surface.
There was no groaning or moaning,
the woods were silent.
I heard not a bird or animal,
but the people just moving and rubbing,
some faster than others.

 

The piners would stop at some points and leave,
others remained for quite some
time, still there after I
left. I
was lucky enough to talk to one of
the piners and they told me that he has seen
the same people come day in and day out,
he was a three weeker(working
on his fourth),
and some people have been coming for years.

 

These people, he told me,
have nothing else, their wives and husbands
had left them and yet they still come here to
pine. Everyone does it, no one
questions it,
its just they way things are.

 

This was before I heard the screaming of some
poor fool who stuck his... his..
well he was stuck in a knot hole.

 

No one who was actually pining moved
to help him.

I decided that piners were crazy, nothing
else to it. People who live for that
type of pain are nuts, and need to get
over it,
because you can. Some piners come
for one day and move on,
because it
fucking hurts. Who the hell would want
to rube their penis on bark? Dear
God I can't believe people are that stupid.

 

Thank god for my car,
or I would have never gotten out of there.
I did end up fucking it later, or what is known as
car sex.

 

The car enjoyed it.
I enjoyed it.
Everyone was happy.

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