Monday, October 13, 2008

THERE WILL BE NO BUS (OLD)

There is no bus
to take us there.

Not to that strange house
unfinished walls

the wooden floorboards


Your skateboarding friend
broke
his nose falling off

You cried your heart out
Cried
yourself to sleep

You fell in the field
rubbed the fever
from your brow.

It was summer
We just left the dance
I took polaroids
you and that hat.

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