It was 7:26 and there wasn't a damn thing better to do than just give up on the day and listen to Charlie Parker.
It was 7:26 and I was feeling sick of how solitary I could feel in early winter, with no one to keep me warm.
It was 7:26 and I wasn't wearing my best sweater.
It was 7:26 and I hadn't taken my migraine medication, but I'm sure that's fine, everything's fine, everything's dark and the music is getting quiet.
It was 7:26 and I was having the hardest time sorting through my sins while that good saxophone sounded like bright light shining through my disappointment.
It was 8:30 on the dot when I saw your face in real time for the first time in ages and I had not a clue how to react...
So I let Ginsberg do the talking.