the summer of 68
half empty bottle of Boone's Farm apple
blue jeans soft with the scent of patchuli
he looked up at me, crumpled
the yellow sheet of notebook paper
tossed it back at my face
said i was a "fucking genius"
as if he had said i was a narc
then he got up from the shade of
the only tree around, snatched the poem up
smoothed the wrinkles against his thigh
handed it back and smiled. i, well
i said i was " just fucking nuts, is all."
"but babe, it really does suit you."
yeah, did back in 68
still does, yeah, damn straight it does!
Sunday, July 31, 2005
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
your blog is nice with having mass information thanks and keep it up
watch barcelona live stream highlights
Post a Comment