wilted

or sending letters south, we are bound by our lonely highway system
ground to dust by goodyear tires and heat-waves
she splits and second and i catch her staring out the widow
the wind is blowing furiously her hair about
it takes more than saffron and full lips to drag me home
she hums a song i think was done by pj harvey
a yelped phrase comes through; i wonder what she it thinking about
but seeing her, she is only a long line of quiet days and
getting beneath such stations takes more
than luck

so i felt like, "hey the stars are shining, why shouldn't we laugh and swim"
and pulled up to a swimming area, but she's afraid of snakes (years mend worries)
it's like a time when everyone is glad to be alive
even if rent is due in a few days, and no one works around here
a guy i know is fucking a freind of mine in the back and she is saying "fuck me!"
loud as alibastor tongues, i forsee castor oil mornings
bloody marys at dawn, we just keep waking up, so why not?

she gets it straight when it comes to love,
says "every color is only pretty until you've looked at it awile."
and i know she's telling me about the endings she's had
like fertile crescent love affairs, letters gone (passed) between
and forth to one asking permission to love quietly and the other answers
loudly, if at all.

2004-06-22 | 7:42 p.m.
0 comments so far