|
2001-10-10 || 3:01 p.m. || at night || in this scene it is past one o'clock and she is sitting on the driveway of his apartment building, pointing past pine trees and high rises and freeway onramps at the moon, trying to prove that it looks just like a lemon wedge in a cup of tea. her car is still ticking from the heat generated by the drive over in the cold and quiet. she is wearing her lucky slip and lucky cardigan sweater under her winter coat. her hair is ruffled in back from sleep and under her eyes are half moons. he smells of aftershave and soap. they sit this way, knees to chests, perched on cold cement, making out constellations and shapes of trees and which rooms are lit up in the elderly home at the base of the hill. they talk in far away voices that don't quite reach the other's ears. he is kissing her neck and she is squinting to make out whether the big red star just to the left of the top of the telephone pole in front of them is a planet. guestbook || notes || archives || profile || photos || d-land |