That old sun keeps on shining;
have not the patience to ignore all that.
Give sixty days for just one night,
salvation à la mode, and
your deafness a shout!
Do you still see me even here?
as you cross the circle line,
there's a haze on the skyline.
Unfashionable to the end,
the queen of all the pack.
Northern fathers western child.
In the wee hours I'll meet you,
the one day I would change for a Monday.
Refill the cup and drink it up. Say goodnight and
careful (how you go) about your usual business.
But she didn't grace our table.
Big Riff, rough boy, wants to be a singer in a band
before we learned October’s song.
Out in the middle distance, still more tragedies are playing:
soft and silky night walkers.
It said, “I love you” in small letters.
I simply had to read it twice.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
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