anna
guilt is a fine human feature when she open her hands inside, is a heart: mine, which she holds barely at all before the night wears on and the sun starts the upswing it's so fond of and i am quiet, watching everything beautiful take place. she tells me about france, he nights in bars and drinking coffee with strangers, scribbling poems onto the backsides of napkins. when she tells it i can see it happen and we laugh about a guy she met that looked like fred flintstone and talked like barney (it's funnier when she tells it with the voices and everything) and when the night is closing down, we are changing the channels of our hearts and she hands me back my heart, i give her back her lips, smile and we leave. these nights are a gathering of enjoyments. friends are valued at forever.
2004-06-25 | 5:30 p.m.
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