DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, pleasant to dream of old friends---like nothing happened:>
drove the beetle blue no driver's license just liked the view send my apologies to the streets of mysteries or was it misery in disguise upon the old she cries like the hidden furniture spoke in signs memories and secrets called mine tiger rug in luxury shop familiar gazes made feet stop never true when doors are slammed antiques in a swift can slip the hand a heart of glass of a weighed mass maybe not the dream but the morning stance reminds hints of a glance her empty seat in a wallet buries pictures in the back of the pocket and I ask and count wall blocks and thoughts glue does she think of me like I do too?