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Sunday, May 25, 2003 When we were young, the rain made us frown only for a second before we realized that rain meant mud. We'd squish our feet in it and wiggle our toes like crawly worms. With faces upturned to the sky, we'd cry out great whoops of laughter, begging to be soaked right down to the soul. I drove tonight through the rain and thought about how the rain slows us down now, dragging out inevitable commutes while simultaneously deepening the age formed frown lines on our foreheads. Have we lost it all? All the wonder a spring rain storm brought us when we were 10? I got out and stepped over the puddle by the curb. I put up my umbrella and shook my head waiting for a sunny day. (archives | details | blogger) Friday, May 23, 2003 At first it was just the thrill of it all; the sheer exhilaration of the sensation of it sliding down her throat. The glass approaching her lips. She sipped more and more. Pleasure gave way to needy obsession and then masochistic self-loathing. She couldn't remember the glasses she sipped from or the after effects of any of them. They are mine for the taking. She wasn't thirsty anymore. Disgust and pity. She continued to taste without the desire to finish a drink. The onlookers tsk'd with pity and repugnance waiting for the downfall-- alone. (archives | details | blogger) Monday, May 05, 2003 Your hair is waved like my waning regret. My hands find their way to tangle and twist, begging to get lost in some part of you. The birds wake up hours before the sun comes up, gracing us with a reminder that night will end and sleep will be stifled by sunlight. Blankets will be thrown back to tragic awareness. I stare down that dark road of our differences, shadowed and sullen; our similarities expressed in the softness of a tee shirt. |