9/4/13

The Papers


/ / / / a little short story, a little tale about innocence... / / / / 


That girl you knew is dead. Read it in the papers the other day. Someone wrote her into a movie in the hills of California. And she's gone. 

She was sweet and delicate, and playing with the strings of new ideas & youth. Eagerness in her eyes so trusting, laid everything of herself against me while we laid. But I just made the warm honey summer cold. Wanted to strangle something of the naiveté out, like the juice that ran down the counter edge. 

Now I'm playing with piano keys in an empty hotel room lobby, and she's gone. Funny I'd see you here because I've been wanting to talk of someone near. Someone of 'the times my man, when we were the crowd being talked about. A time when I lied and said it meant everything. 
It meant so much more. It truly was the world she always talked about living in. It existed as she had built it in the air with fingertips and stories. 

Wonder where the soul is now, if I could get it back. Force it back to Earth for a jubilee. Wonder if it's new creation is something even greater. 
All the years are growing so very fast. All the mem-or-iesss...so wondrous.





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