"I Feel Like We Are In A Christina Aguilera Video."
"We Are."
"I wanted to see boats, so you took me to the sea. I felt like I could fly with this new sky you showed to me. Airplanes passed above us so only I could hear when you whispered "I love you" so sweetly in my ear. These are the best days. Nighttime on an empty shore. Drifting off to sleep to all those silly things you said. Waking for a moment to say that we'd be fine. You hid your smile with one hand and with the other you held mine. These are the best days."
The disregarded holiday of Monday found Jawn Wulf and I in lack of state college corridors to traipse upon, nor professions open to stick our fingers into, churn them around a bit, and yank out chunks of cookie dough or pizza dough or simply dough to line the innards of our pockets. Thusly, we took to my humble spacecraft and soon found ourselves teleported to a world of surf and sand. I hung myself on the blue of that sky, the sand in his hair and under his fingernails, nearly choking to death in that place of granulated glass. Those mag wheels became burrowing clams that refused to surface without some mild coaxing from Jawn's digging digits and a few quick foot movements of my own between gas and clutch. We starred at alligator men, executions, drunkards and demons, lusty ladies. We gorged on crystallized sugar and taffied pieces of the sea. We watched the sunset through our eyelids. I remember an ugly dog at a wooden bridge, a well placed banana at a pricey lighthouse, a terribly well populated deserted soon-to-be housing complex, and finally an abandoned moonlit gravel highway. We got sand everywhere.
The disregarded holiday of Monday found Jawn Wulf and I in lack of state college corridors to traipse upon, nor professions open to stick our fingers into, churn them around a bit, and yank out chunks of cookie dough or pizza dough or simply dough to line the innards of our pockets. Thusly, we took to my humble spacecraft and soon found ourselves teleported to a world of surf and sand. I hung myself on the blue of that sky, the sand in his hair and under his fingernails, nearly choking to death in that place of granulated glass. Those mag wheels became burrowing clams that refused to surface without some mild coaxing from Jawn's digging digits and a few quick foot movements of my own between gas and clutch. We starred at alligator men, executions, drunkards and demons, lusty ladies. We gorged on crystallized sugar and taffied pieces of the sea. We watched the sunset through our eyelids. I remember an ugly dog at a wooden bridge, a well placed banana at a pricey lighthouse, a terribly well populated deserted soon-to-be housing complex, and finally an abandoned moonlit gravel highway. We got sand everywhere.