November 2011
5 posts
2 tags
what else can i tell you? it is warm outside. i’m thinking of dreamy, slept-in beds, and an unsteady finger drawing a line down the underside of my wrist. deep eyes, deep thoughts. deepthoughts. we aren’t as complex as we all think we are; we glance at each other from across a row of parked cars, we smile over the heads of dandelions on a slope, and we’re still trying to sleep at...
4 tags
There must be a million seeds in this tiny little orange.
It is going to rain. I am thinking about a boy who doesn’t love me plucking eggshells out of my hair. It was the first time I’d ever been to a football game, yesterday, and I’d brought an umbrella and I had a bunch of little oranges with me in my purse, and I’d worn these gorgeous, but impractical, three-inch-heeled boots. Everything...
all we really have are soapy fingers clinging to anything rough at the edges, tattered and glamorously broken. glazed eyes and mussed hair. clinging tight to our own skin. washed away feelings of the amorous variety, we know what we’re doing, we always did.
“Hello, babies. Welcome to Earth. It’s hot in the summer and cold in the winter....”
– Kurt Vonnegut (God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater)