Thursday, 26 April 2012
I was sitting at that table last night when you couldn't talk to me. I was asking you about that divide you seemed to be thinking about, finding myself right in the middle of it. As you tried to explain I remember turning away to look at a clown, he invited me over to a his table, I accepted without thinking. And when I later held his hair in the cold I couldn't help thinking that I'd made the right choice, until early this morning. But I really didn't mean what I said, I couldn't tell you now who those thoughts belong to. But a pin-up girl once told me about not thinking and seemed like a worth while pursuit. But mostly aggression and a late confusion result. So when that horse that I bought finally breaks down I'll call for the driver of that old car that we used to drive, he'll show up barefoot telling me there's not enough room. I grumble and place my feet toward a walk, and try best to stretch out the day. Just don't spill that on carpet, but I did already.