2002-01-11 || 11:40 a.m.

|| it just hasn't been the same since i stopped cutting your hair. ||

i am reading the stories you sent me while sitting on cement steps and i come to the page with a strand of your hair caught in the crease of the paper. i saw it the first time i read the stories, blew off the strand without thinking, and then thought better of it and fished it from the black of my sweater (it took several attempts, black hair on black sweater, competing with cat hair and my red hair for attention). i placed it back in the crease and folded the pages up and put in all back in the envelope. today when i found it i picked it up and almost thought of swallowing it, or taping it to the wall, but instead i held it between my fingers and put it in my pocket. it's lost forever in that deep pocket, swimming among lint and loose change and a bus transfer, but i know it's there.

previous || next || random

guestbook || notes || archives || profile || photos || d-land