The air is barely cold enough to feel like New England winters. But I remember those because my thoughts are with you. Sleepless nights, trite work, bare bottoms, cool air, no money, warm bodies, smart lip, messy hair, you cry, I tear, we wait, for the sun to come up. For the sun to come up, is a sign that the goodness of our sadness is only going to get farther, and farther, away. Woo hoo.
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Brown hair, Potter's glasses, sweet heart, smiling like there wasn't a care (there wasn't), kitty cats, medication, deep stares, sleepy nation... did you learn much over there? Do you feel less lost, more adjusted, better kept, and doing just the right thing, right there, where they sent you... we need that drink, I want that kiss, we need that talk, the way we felt, back then, was it Seoul, or Ginza?
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Grey dog, who are you...? You knocked, I was thrilled, three years since it happened, and still now, I don't know who you are. I don't know who you are. I only know that you're in control: of clustered thoughts, of urbane strangeness, inner eyes, mirrored glances, no one can see inside. I still don't see inside.
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Starry eyes, sugar gliders, cups of coffee and a forlorn gaze. Silly smile, underweight you said, growing out was the way to be. Fair speech, belief, found a soul who will make you grin? Farewell, hoary speeches, nasi lemak and a thousand ways to leave...
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Punk ass - where's it been? Sultry smoothie she's a hipster slave. Sneakerhead, hair-dyed, once a feeler now less so, she says, she says, but her logic lies.
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