A year to wait
But not one of those stagnant,
thick-netted *******.
The rushed one,
like the cafe girl
who knows he's coming so orders ahead
This is the real rush, the real lush rush -
Your potted and steaming sewer
4 am blacktop
photographic backdrop
waiting-to-do-your-*****-work rush, and it knows you will want that.
You can't trick the city, but you can trick time
Trick it till it thinks. The girl at the cafe thinks too.
Think it through, she thinks.
I like the way her blue (not her skirt's blue), the blue she made, waves in the wind like it's the last thing swaying, that she can call home. She had a home once,
But this isn't about the rushed girl in blue, is it?
No. This, this thing we have here is about the rush, my friend!
that dreaded coiled-stomach rush that only happens at the last second, of the last minute
We can trick thoughtful time, never can we hide from the finality of our deciding moment!!
Girl blue has made her choice, too soon perhaps -
But rot yourself down to your last second,
feel the swell in your gut,
and choose.
You still have time.