There was a buzzard on a broken branch. The adjacent hill was mysteriously covered in smokey fog contrasting with the green and orange trees. I didn’t have a camera…. so I wrote a song instead.
She felt very safe and warm with him in that stucco hallway with the smiling time traveling pictures and the heating vent whispering a thermal secret to her bare calves.
I dipped a fucking donut in my fucking tea and studied Confucianism.