She's me
chat that
back her
stack as
eyes gleam
and conglomerate
of ceramic
taste that
steal the
heart away
for cause
of now
that mayn't
bring her
down to
this gloomy
bile of
pancakes grief

There’s a place on 12th and Hawthorne
and one on 12th and Morrison
I want to take you there
and talk about how I care.
we just have to pay the bus fare

it’s just on the 70…
no where near my Kennedy
we’ll walk a couple blocks
it could be more like five
that’s ok we’ll be at high dive

I hope we do see mo.
she’ll be playing sad love ballads.
if we end up seeing shon
we’ll think he’s the Foo fighters lad
then there could be dan.
he’s still trying to be a man.

we’ll walk a few blocks more
there’s an attraction here
it’s called roadside, dear.
we can have a few beers.

we’ll sit on a lovely swing
and I’ll talk about this thing
I want to take you there.
however I’m just too scared.

Uno mas,
or "one more."
One more stop until we're home
or close enough to call it so.
One more stop until we're close enough
to driving our car and picking up ***,
roadside.
To grabbing a coffee
to restart the night.
To talking 'till that predawn light
that reminds us why
we fell in love
the first time.
Uno
mas.