12.9.11

fucksticks

what is going on?

beat of the jungle beats

I'm sure that the way the street slants towards the ocean makes it seem like Seattle is a sweet place to walk. Always towards the sunlit gleamy piers, wasting into brighter air above the salt and dead crabs. And my lake, the one I had to drive around to reach the other side each day said something else to another boat or a seaplane. I can tell you exactly where you should be standing, where the light can hit the top portion of your sneakers and the rest of you can finish your cigarette in the shadow near the closed greek cafe. you can walk all around and take photos with your eye held up to a rolled paper from the baguette you just inhaled after your cigarette. Get some sleep and in the morning tell her about the day you've had patrolling the streets for sentiment. I am hiding here, but you haven't asked me what I think about any of the shops. I could tell you about the way the fish makes me feel. We could slip sushi into our tummies and then walk forward to find something else like tea or a coffee or a person to comment on. I am so good at commenting. I will even be brave and take your photo near them so we can remember how they looked and what we ate and the beautiful sun we shared. Just ask me where to find myself, I would love to share this tilted city with you.