She sat and wished for anything more than the tired dreams he kept repeating (slow and down the edge of the cracking glass of guinness he still, earnestly, believed gave him some strength to see beyond the seething wealth of shit grown grins he'd dragged her into when she was too young to know that there was more to fucking than love and an arm to call her own into the future where they would sit somewhere all fat and tanned by the empire he'd somehow made out of the dust he carried this far, didn't he?).
She sucked back her sigh. sipped. let her eyes roll him over in wonder and then land onto the jukebox.
Tired flashes. johnny cash. some boston for the pool-grown white caps prancing around the pocket.
More than a feeling.
Fucking, indeed.
Nowhere Is Always Somewhere.mp3
8.16.2007
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment