today went by too swiftly, like a headbutt to my nose that left me blue black but breathless, gasping for more. it's your birthday and i suck at writing love poems. i open my mouth and it's already tomorrow. (happy birthday, dear s.)
i lost sandra cisneros' caramelo twice in the past 12 hours, once at blake's, a bar in south berkeley (perhaps sandra got tipsy and left with the bartender) and another time in the sweaty backseat of leigh anne's ride (nothing worse than being stuck in a vehicle on simmering afternoons.) caramelo - this is a book that's meant to be read outside, some place hot, where the air smells like a color and you can inhale it deeply.
fuggit! i wanna tear the fuggen roof off, rent's so expensive i'm paying enough to buy my own morsel of the sky.