July is gone like the gasoline it took to make the circle again.
FLorida to Florida, by the way of America.
Cocaine and soda, playing Tetris in our underwear.
We take turns reading letters, I read the haiku and you move your nails across my legs.
In your arms, I don’t know who I am, taking all I know about nihilism and trying to build it into a life.
With your thought in mind, I walk the streets down to the shore and I sink into the Pacific.
This is evrything up to now ending.
It was nice to believe for a while.
