maps of ireland (for lindsay)

now you'll be a real redhead, a turnsole turns around and blooming sometimes comes late and once around around again we change our mind daily, the better part of us and soon moving down sidewalks southwest of cypress avenue (belfast) and you said you said part and part (if you're going to be) a mut that's close as any two can be so snap me pictures from the rainy weather monuments to lost and loved, a shot of anyone at all holding hands and one of two people fighting (it's just like home) and so different all the same.

galway mornings might be spectacular as anything (for all i know) and you can you can spell it out in pages worked through and worked over (the way you do) to get it right (what's right for you) and motion leads us somewhere: through maps of ireland and green green past eyelines and salty air (murk makes everything mean more) and somehow soon now you'll be a real redhead and full of all the wordings, ways of magistrates and punks (the highest kind) and van morrison streets, the i.r.a. lives here (stereotypes define worlds) and making the best is what's on the way. your first choice, the first page, maybe you'll come back tattered novels beneath your arms (a punk rock guiness bitch) and more than worth the effort, find a write worth drawing up and churn it out like transmet (which you gave me) make it more than any suffering that's taken days or nights or years and (just won't) fade, but in a story there's a you (in you there's a story: made of rotten teeth or wasted days, classrooms, futures brighter than griggs) and when the best ones come, they come hard and fast and sweep you up (savings accounts and overtime hours) and soon: one more redhead on her way and back (moves through, moves through)

2004-05-25 | 9:46 p.m.
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