my quarter's going to run out now, or so i'm told
2004-08-11 & 4:28 p.m.

we have swam in fountains and gotten many new jobs and looked for her in the sky. she has been the lone sunflower on rafting trips and the comfort when the sobbing subsides. i still miss her daily, but the hope grows and the desperation fades.

there are blue flowers downtown and promises of new rooms in a place where the shutters of a camera record a moment i will remember for seconds only.a man tips his hat at me and it seems as though he should be playing an accordian somewhere in london. i get an email about trips back, so that i can see music festivals and their house when all the roses are blooming and they remember my hat. i think i might remember everything.

he tells me he thinks of me often and doesn't believe me when i tell him the same. instead of trying to make him believe, i speak in red suns and early morning winds.