At the table counting tonights lines.
Some day I will have reasons and time and worth enough to spend months on end in these lives.
These not so private sandal touting no no no mad lives.
The sublet seems nice enough.
Although a distant roommate perched on the edge of the big screen can seem, after ten plus years of one bedroom isolation, I don't know, lots of things all at once. Like an over heated, very cute dog. So I'm a little worried about that. But, then again its all part of the deal. And the lesbians have a hot tub on the other side of the hill to remind us all that there is such a thing as paradise. The black and white bookends made it through the final cuts and we do all really get to come home. And our feet wont feel like this forever. And friends don't usually all see the same shapes in the poppies. The favors behind the curtains propose a variety of packaging options. Those characters exist for that time to help out with that time, and then the balloon snaps and you can't figure out where that noise is coming from. Like a tap dance on a lot, that time seemed iconic before the numbers even figured.
This will always be sad.
Heart Brain Home Put Em' Up,