vagrant vamp: rock out, poet
kempleton poet: rock out of which it is difficult to guess the fact remains that he has come, O Balthasar, you still "Yes.
yesterday afternoon, my brother and I raced up gigantic dirt mounds in the temporarily abandoned sod farm. There were dandelions everywhere, all white and flowy. sixty billion wishes under our Converse and our bicycle wheels, my father taking high-res memory.
came home to cry over Chemistry, blood drawn in the morning. return to school with battlescar gauze, excused inexcusability.
Posted by samantha at May 10, 2004 04:10 PM