Monday, March 23, 2009

come over

I live here, where the roar of the behemoths tattoo my window, belly full of indifferent shadows, hunched over plodding lives, vomiting soot on the sheers that blow and flutter with the tide of motor and footfall. I lean way out and crane, you at my buzzer in a puddle of vapor, gold and humming, a guitar on your back.

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