Hedonistics Anonymous
Monday, July 18, 2005
Inspiration at 1430 hrs
Coin slots in the jukebox
Folder shuffle
Shall we-
(They're playing our song, my love)
Fingers folded, we glide
silk-smooth; oil-slick
Across the landing
Trapped between the dusty grooves of yesterday
Today
Tomorrow
(Forever?)
Random stills of white picket fences,
A manicured lawn with endless rows of sunflowers,
Fat cats sunning themselves,
(Who's that little girl in a sundress, my love? I don't recall-)
We dip low
Twirl
Swirl
To the mindless beat of
Our Song
(Don't let me fall, my love, don't you dare)
Time quickens its pace
Words grow soft
Memories fade to grey
And all good things come to an end
That bloody proverbial cliche
(Or is it?)
He pulls me back from the brink of reality
(Whispers)
Hello.
What's your name?
Posted by Hedonistics Anonymous :: 11:30 pm ::
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