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August 03, 2004 - 8:20 a.m.

I wrote it in the sand, made you the question, like spontanaeity, like we talked about... remember?

and wove you a ring from beach grass and we crashed into the waves to hide our silly tears.***

"Underwater I wrote drowning

I use to be such good, good swimmer

But for now my head is in the clouds

I'm a silly love song

A twisted elbow crush song"

and the whole damn neighbourhood-on-pines can watch, binoculars out, while we skinny dip our skinny pale selves into their sea of reservation. sorry , mister, but we paid too, and we pay each time you look at us that way.

It seems we've got some explaining to do. Yes, it seems we've shown them something they're not used to. In the real world, outside this rich white bubble of hyped up morality, people exist... like me.

you'd think he'd have to have been staring pretty hard to know we were naked in the moon light... and both female?!! and so coming home feels real like the smell is us and clean, but not astringent. The roads get smoother as though we're water that began high up on some mountain and as we flow out down these rocky trails and rivets, we gradually come into our own, close to the sand and smoother, like our way has been etched out, like it's not such a fight, like water is all running in the same direction now... uphill. but it feels right, to fight gravity this way. ****

"I would go to jail with only boys

Just to prove I was as tough as you

And when I get out for good behavior

I'll be writing love songs

Silly banging knee songs"

driving to the beer store, passing lines and lines of holiday traffic... heading down the strip where signs promise "hedonism weekend" and "Naughty Girls Night Out", i feel so tame... like, man, we've just been water skiing, tubing, building mermaids in the sand... don't let the hand holding fool you...we get up early and make scrambled eggs and bacon... just like you.

and the food, what a week, from homemade pizzas, fresh peaches, orange ruffy, corn on the cob, steak, bean salad, lasagna, spinach and feta .... I could have lived there forever, walking on the beach every morning, waiting for the real world to intercede...***

"I'm a car crash

But I have to get up

And every morning it's a clean up

All I need is time, time to love you"

we always listen to the same song when we drive, and you always get edgy, which soon subsides. You hate not being in control... and sometimes i love that you hate that. ***

"The forecast is grey

But we're staying inside

You must live close

I've seen you drive by

I left signs on the lawn

Where have they gone?

Did you take them to tease me?

To follow or lead me?

You're a silly love song"

the verse chorus and such... go on and i wonder how life will. all i need is time. more of it. less of it filled with worry and then... then i will just continue to be... what will be... what will be.

 

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