rubber

when one light likes (doors open) a sudden closing of windows, murked up by magazine pages, trend-finders, a world without sleek sheets or hospital corners (armchair lifelessness: felines moving onward as always) and people staring, it turns out that turning out isn't about results at all but a small alchemy between bent branches and short-order chefs at late night truck stops (this storm is losing momentum, you want to believe, and so do). what i'm talking about is a closing off of un-tended fields, sensations locked away, a losing of all senses: life virtually undefined and marred by only the thoughts of early childhood that wouldn't end or a lover that didn't love you back. life.

2004-08-01 | 5:42 p.m.
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