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2003-01-08 || 11:35 a.m. || even if there were blue whales in the lake. || and the freeways wind about you like concrete ribbons. and the pine trees have no diseases. and strips of light hit the older houses just so and the yards are geometric, harsh lines and lacy edges, and perfect. and chainlink fences are never so beautiful and intricate. and handbills fold themselves into birds and airplanes. and the color yellow is the only color one would ever think of for house paint. and empty potato chips bags make the most enchanting rustling noises, like wild birds and unstable molecules. and your curtains are drawn and your mailbox is overflowing and no amount of music or postcards will be enough for you to come down when i am standing on the street. guestbook || notes || archives || profile || photos || d-land |