I miss the smell of macaroni boiling.
Jacqueline, it rained all day.
How is texas, assembling those sloppy
quesadillas.
A young man came over to make sure
I was wrapped in a blanket.
I slept on the floor, after a couple of
cigarettes, terrified a couple of cats.
Not on purpose.
Not much is.
On Saturday I'm going back
to the cafe, he served me sangria and
liked my favorite, ragged bra.
The very tall, blonde bartender who rode to work
on a bike, glasses for the rain.
They made him born to play music,
fingers so unfearing.
Jacqueline, I drink the same and it is the cause
of all this.

So I will not call, just like I promised.

08/01/2005

Posted on 08/01/2005
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