wilted
or sending letters south, we are bound by our lonely highway system ground to dust by goodyear tires and heat-waves she splits and second and i catch her staring out the widow the wind is blowing furiously her hair about it takes more than saffron and full lips to drag me home she hums a song i think was done by pj harvey a yelped phrase comes through; i wonder what she it thinking about but seeing her, she is only a long line of quiet days and getting beneath such stations takes more than luck so i felt like, "hey the stars are shining, why shouldn't we laugh and swim" and pulled up to a swimming area, but she's afraid of snakes (years mend worries) it's like a time when everyone is glad to be alive even if rent is due in a few days, and no one works around here a guy i know is fucking a freind of mine in the back and she is saying "fuck me!" loud as alibastor tongues, i forsee castor oil mornings bloody marys at dawn, we just keep waking up, so why not? she gets it straight when it comes to love, says "every color is only pretty until you've looked at it awile." and i know she's telling me about the endings she's had like fertile crescent love affairs, letters gone (passed) between and forth to one asking permission to love quietly and the other answers loudly, if at all.
2004-06-22 | 7:42 p.m.
0 comments so far
|