its so unseasonably hot in berkeley
That if I had a yard, I'd sleep out in it, under the stars... If I could see them ... which I can't because of the urban street light aura.
So, I open my window, put in my earplugs, and pretend I'm 13 again.
I'll get about as much sleep as the night Wesley J. Felber, my brother and other neighbor kids spent in the back yard, and we talked all night about what we would do with a girl, if we could ever get one.
So, I open my window, put in my earplugs, and pretend I'm 13 again.
I'll get about as much sleep as the night Wesley J. Felber, my brother and other neighbor kids spent in the back yard, and we talked all night about what we would do with a girl, if we could ever get one.
posted by Stan at 9:59 PM
1 Comments:
Maybe I could get you to wright my life... story by story... a tower... swaying in the wind... It's the summer of our country's bicentennial. We built a tower of sorts. Three logs lashed together somewhere between the two ends. Lashed tight. Spred the legs. Presto. A tower. Like life. One fine moment. Life goes on. But, where is that tower now? Greymatter I tell you, just freaking electrochemicals that have about as much value as a puff of air.
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