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2006-10-24 || 12:47 p.m. || lunch specials on university avenue || before the city got too small for us, we zipped our coats over last-night's clothes and walked on the sunny side of the street to find breakfast in diners cluttered with boxes and foreign languages. we drove to city lakes for picnics. you would awake to tapping on your window from someone stopping by in the middle of the night, hoping you were awake and listening to records. you wrote cursive notes in pencil on manuscripts that would never be named. i made you dinner and cut your hair and loved you both enough to tuck you in when you'd drunk enough to let me. guestbook || notes || archives || profile || photos || d-land |