There’s a pattern of scattered stones; there’s a game of chess; there’s ink welling up around a pen point paused on fine white paper. The Midwesterners are tentative at first. “So what, do you like, study graffiti?” “No, I do it.” They nod their cute white faces, hoping against hope that it’s true. Then the sky opens up and takes over. Line follows line; the bar empties, another back seat. Between the thought and the act, there’s me not able to think and not able to feel as I watch my blood slowly diluting in the toilet.
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I'm giving the above pic to
Tony to do something with...
Party People listen up: We could have been healthy and without fear, but the great tide of time has pulled back, and we are left clinging to puddles, gasping for life in a sudden shower.
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