my own private margarittaville

last night was a carosel of curving sensations in my mind. sitting across a table, leaned in, leaned back, drinking too many presidential margaritas the topics fell free like marmalade: working like coral snake through sand into line and angles, portions of time and history covered, uncovered moments, worthwhile thought, sadnesses, gladnesses, more.

a pack a half of cigarettes stayed after we left.

2004-03-10 | 12:48 p.m.
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