ears still ringin'. cut across from saint lau with a coupla burgers, walk down peel, misty and damp, to a bus stop. once home find hair smells like mcdonaldβs & clouds & remember that conversation i just had about the increasing amount of wayward young adults.. with the driver of the 360 westbound. ---too cold for the balcony so i'll probably just couch it & sizzle a nice bowl & wish i had a little bit more to write tonight.
post- concert poetry on being uninspired to write poetry. (january 17th)