Thursday, February 24, 2011


A shiver of Hertz rings true to we the solitary boys. And to solitary (girls)? We don't know if we've never heard them, and if they are shy and won't let us hear them then the echoes of the brick and the oak as we tap will serve as their voices. If they ever sing to us, we won't know which songs are special but they will all be special. And if they are with us we must always love them because if they leave we will not know they have gone and even the taps will be empty, sometimes like the taste of the first morning after her space is October Country, chill, and unoccupied, and Heaven is suddenly just a bunch of assholes you've never met like Jacksonville, Seattle, Leon, Boston, the nerves in our backs dead and our shoulders heaving. This is why I would like to meet you, and you may kiss my nose and linger above, I will be sleeping I promise.