last day of july
& why? Where are you going this weekend? It isn't to where I be going, is it? The lady with the vermilion fro walks in, sandalled, with sparkle-gold bag. She drinks the beers on the half-off, and writes in the little spiral-bound. & I am up over here, tryn to get hung, and the buzzing happens, and it makes my stupid aggressive heart swallow in my throat
