it was 13 months ago i saw her dancing in the same bar, to the same band, with a different fella on her arm. but last night it was me, and by 1 am we were staring at pictures of Robert Johnson on the ceiling. two hours later we were listening to Billy Holiday in Oakland Park bedrooms, and this morning it could have been Paris, watching the sun rise through the blinds after a night of loud music and soft secrets, comparing mythologies in the dark.
we woke in time to feed croissants to the sparrows.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
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