April 14, 2011

Malaise thumps up against me in waves,
surprising in its dullness; it drums of
depression.

***

I truly do. I love how my body
smells in the Texas summer; or
spring everywhere else. Spring,
in New York, is no exception. &
Probably, I would love the way you smell.
Let’s wrestle in the grass, green eyed lady.

***

To not talk. Is there anything worse? The
answer to my problems hides in the talking.
To talk,
with you would be great. Let’s get together
some night, & then, maybe brunch the next
morning?

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