Sunday evening in the fast food hall
I was reading American Gods, loss, and smalltown cream-walled parlors
When they played Garden State on the radio.
Pictures always rise to easy
Outside nighttime was a perfect blue, the colors blending with streetsign hues
the summer we invented love
Back home my tea speaks of Alsace cardamon christmas fairs; my room says home, my hair long like summer. I lose my heart in books these days ; the skin under my nails smells of every place that's ever been.
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In that time...
We were young gods and we were beautiful.
Such intensity. Intensity. Purity.
Thank you/ thank you/ here is so much left to learn.
