-M.
It’s a number. It’s a song. It’s a boy. Smooth. Pearl joy packed. Gold falafel, as through ice. It’s four-thirty. Morning with phone calls. It’s deaf mute. It’s cheap. A foreign car. Maybe bingo.
Lucky night?
Something says it smells bad.
martes, 18 de mayo de 2010
Last tango, then Paris.
-I'll be waiting at the top of the empire state building. At 7:01, I'm closing my heart to you forever. -Well, I won't be there.
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