Monday, January 04, 2010

Just a little taste of what I'm talking about here:

Where in the world did you come from my dear?
Did some mysterious voice tell you I'd still be here? I bought this ticket to Mobile, but I been stranded all day...p.a. said the bus broke down ten miles away from the station.
So seldom a door...so seldom a key...so seldom a lock like the love between you and me. But seldom comes happiness without the pain of the devil in the details since I saw the smile on your face as I was crying in a Greyhound station on Christmas Day...in 1998.
The burden of love is the fuel of bad grammar.
You stutter and stammer--what a bitch to convey the crux of the matter, when the words you must utter are hopelessly tangled in the memories and scars you show no one. So seldom a door...so seldom a key...so seldom a hit like the hurt you put on me...
from Christmas Day.and

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