some of them work better than the old ones

soon pop radio plays all over songs and then will we love them more or less? i sat sturdy-eyed fogged windows hours yesterday read a beautiful book sang sad songs to myself and read the glass, it fell open and soon as planes mistaken for stars we try new ways new mothods for laughing and some of them work better than the old ones (i think that means we should spread the word, tell our friends) and mattering is only the way we think of it, just tears in a paper cup just a wattered down life, making rain for molecules to dance through. trying. you say, might be fun and you're right.

2003-11-19 | 6:42 p.m.
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