In honor of Blaine's entry, this something I wrote when I was 22 , on the bench in the mezzanine at Concordia, desperately trying to come up with a composition for that night's poetry class. remember this one? Sorry to get all 'livejournal' on you guys but here goes:
Two fistfuls of your hair I'm trying to come clean grainy afternoons sifting though stories It's like looking for the shells with mussels still inside
Or digging to China. All night we drove the same stretch of highway along the water looking for the perfect spot to reveal everything or bury the evidence.
Even now I remember your head out the window hair flapping like fortress flags the locket around your neck quivering like a minnow.