picturing that
the bridge was lined with yellow, as i walked. 2 dollar tolls on the way to new york and the train station. when you're young nothing matters. warm concrete, musicboxes, its all the same. bound together, short term ties. another neighbor no one minds. the parking lot is lined with plam trees i watch. the wind knocks them around and i can't get back to my room. maybe i'd say something perfect, but what is perfect to you? my voice cuts off like a burning engine, picture that. it's all good now that you're older, pack your bags and desert home. quick snap flash goes everywhere. on your wall. wall. remember me when the tape gives in and i fall down.
