wonderland avenue

in the parking lot, we sat quietly
yarning on about deviance
i'm coming along and this road, this gate
which keeps us from you, we bang
luder than fallouts for anything at all
i hear a woman's voice telling us that everything is fine is fine
and just how well does one need to be to be fine?
so i make straight arrows of my eyebrows and sling a question out about
her favorite record/song and she laughs
trapping me behind these blue eyes doors
her with ther green eye futures and me
with something like a car that won't run
something tangled, it resembles and borkwn wing
from an angel i once caught beneath my boot, worn
but she just nods and tells me how long these gate waits usually go on for
and i try to think of ways around it, but can't
we're stuck, here, waiting on an answer to a doorbell no one anywhere can find.

2004-06-22 | 8:57 p.m.
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