Tossing pebbles at your window it's two am on a high school thursday: I am the person you thought I was. Lets go! 72 Hours of highways! Then, Refuge in the raging Mississippi! We'd never go back if only we would go. You, in one of your 1000 ridiculous sunglasses blasting Pavement CD's and glowing; the april breeze amplified by open windows and lightened by your hair. I think we knew: if we left we could never go back to merely living. Now, I buy feminine sunglasses obsessively, like Gatsby doing whatever the hell it was that Gatsby was always doing. You stopped liking pavement. Gatsby was lucky enough to end up with a bullet hole instead of "moving on." Rich girls don't marry poor boys. My future has barely dented the one I longed to get away from with you, through you, in you. And you, you. You asked me once: "How Would You Like To Die, If You Had The Choice?" We always have the choice. A speeding car heading towards obliteration. -- -e. _______________________________________________ Five7Five mailing list [EMAIL PROTECTED] http://www.pairlist.net/mailman/listinfo/five7five
