it's so nice; i want to hear the same song twice
2004-08-15 & 5:29 a.m.

it doesn't mean anything anymore, here, on a front porch somewhere on the outskirts of town. he tells me i'm beautiful; i laugh and keep eating my soft pretzel that someone else bought for me. (i wanted to be more unique than all the world to you. in between the wallpaper you chose when you were ten and the new york city skyline, we lost that.)

a stranger in faded pants buys a drink for us. i sigh and hope he passionately hates small talk. that way, he can tell me he knows what mexico smells like. and i can wish.(when did watching the sky become mysterious?)

i wordlessly run away from the invitations. i come home and my red skirt thumps on the floor. i look outside and wonder if i will jump in piles of leaves this fall and if i will keep holding on.