Wednesday, May 6, 2009

i can't find moony after all

and so we rode around, finally down the street, so shrunken
the future was in the backseat, locked in, i looked and could not beliee
the house i grew up in. just about prisoners in niggatown,no knocking in that door
memories are bettered served,fresh.
the waitress was speechless, la nieta unsuspecting that this was the end

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