Lets share a cigarette baby, there is something sexy about having you partake in my bad habits, why? I don’t know, does it matter? Lets drink a couple bottles of wine and we can say things that we make up along the way, just little thoughts about this or that, it doesn’t really matter. We can stumble down some dark small town streets or take our clothes off and stand in the sun on some vacant summer beach, like the one that runs across from the railroad tracks out highway one north between SF and Santa Cruz. But maybe you got better things to do these day, I sure as hell don’t. Do you got any new tunes on your iPod that you can turn me on to? We always like the same artists, the odd ones no one else has ever heard of. Pass me that cigarette again baby—-where’s that cork screw? I don’t want to feel like shit tomorrow, but fuck it, tomorrow is another fabled world away, put your coat on and I’ll tie these unruly shoes of mine and we’ll go outside and walk around, stumble about and I’ll tackle you and bring you down to the earth next to me. And we’ll laugh at this life with its promised death and we’ll pretend today is our last day, maybe it is, who knows, who cares, cause sweetness, right now it don’t matter. Why do people die, they get taken away from us, I don’t like that, I hate that. But you’re alive today with me. Lets go get high and then eat cinnamon graham crackers with sweet Nutella chocolate spread all over them. And then, I’ll make you-up stories as we lay in one another’s arms staring up at the ceiling and we’ll see all these undreamed-of-things tumbling from my mind, hanging right there within the emptiness above us, as if they were real, as if they belonged only to you and me—–cause imagination and fantasy is the spell that once cast, holds love together. Come on darlin, come on along with me and we’ll just keep goin on like this. That wouldn’t be so bad now, would it?
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