Sunday, 12 April 2009

Mainly I've been back to my books and writings and being nice and quiet…

Five or six seasons and a few hundred miles separate us now.

The artefacts of the past all broken, burned or torn.

A hairclip
A photograph
A dog- eared copy of On The Road (p. 72 removed)

And yet nostalgia deceives the mind into pointless pursuits.

Her hair
Her face next to mine
“and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes "Awww!”

The Summer with you, less than a mile apart.

Accept loss forever.

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