wonderland avenue
in the parking lot, we sat quietly yarning on about deviance i'm coming along and this road, this gate which keeps us from you, we bang luder than fallouts for anything at all i hear a woman's voice telling us that everything is fine is fine and just how well does one need to be to be fine? so i make straight arrows of my eyebrows and sling a question out about her favorite record/song and she laughs trapping me behind these blue eyes doors her with ther green eye futures and me with something like a car that won't run something tangled, it resembles and borkwn wing from an angel i once caught beneath my boot, worn but she just nods and tells me how long these gate waits usually go on for and i try to think of ways around it, but can't we're stuck, here, waiting on an answer to a doorbell no one anywhere can find.
2004-06-22 | 8:57 p.m.
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