Saturday, February 28, 2009

hold out your hand

i don't want to smile for the camera or listen to what you have to say. i'm turning my head slowly to stare out the window. the lawn looks different than last year; most of the dirt patches are gone, and the flowers by the door seem to have blown away in one of the rainstorms. you're still talking to me, which is difficult because i'm not here.

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