slow midnight sits careful like adores

sits here, me waits like lights switched on leans on table like engineer builds pen barely against the page at all and forehead creased- this is how i feel about books now, glows red orange fire-tip cigarette falls between fingers and each lost last love is here and time is turning over like memory pulls open for doorways or bar-b-ques now- it's all coming (pocketful of sad leaves and i am smiling).

broad as casting shadows it is all arm stretches and chair leans hours traded for instants and oh-so-worth-it just like now has been coming has been coming on it's way for so so long...

2003-11-25 | 7:05 p.m.
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