Love won't be forged.
I think about asking you to run away with me, but you would want to go to the snow and I have that here.
. . .
I want eucalyptus smell, and chowder on the warf, and Ocean Beach. I want to pass out cigarettes on Haight, and spend the right amount of time at Amoeba, and the right amount of time at Roma.
I want the store fronts at Union Square drunk and walking. I want the Silver Guy to scare you.
I want the Firehouse through new eyes, and cool as fuck John's laugh. I want the red headed guy to ask me for my number instead of just telling me he'd miss my laugh.
I want the sexual tension created by proximity and smell. I want the 2 seconds before your lips touch mine stretched into infinity plus one.
I want to ask you how to spell something.
. . .
Road, river and rail
"So embarrased, I'm not sure at all", lies mother's daughter
Truth is she found love
. . .
Kristin called in sick too. That means McDonalds and sun through windows and sunglasses in snow and the first time I'll ever burn a CD.
Soul sister, it was hard to find you.