[[and on the jukebox johnny sang about a thing called love]]

[buymykidney]

yesterday
estate sale, and i liked it the most.
scasssdale was unimpressed and death got new shoes.
ice cream and in-auto dance parties.
miratello gets too quiet. and i get too tired.
everyone left but me and a real nice boy.
and we had dinner and then we cleaned the pool.
and i'm not sure who you were impressing, boyo,
but it worked. and then i get ancy, and nervous,
and spend an hour running around like a chicken
with my head cut off trying to look pretty,
while boy lays on bed laughing.
it reminded me of too many other situations.
finally, to pratt. after an hour on go in the car,
and i lay down, and decide to never get up again.
an punk rocker with cabin fever put an end to that plan.
party, very strange dears, very strange.
not to say i am not the most social girl in the world,
i am. and i was happy and flitting and drinking
and it was like old sheets. and then i was late.
because lateness is a perpetual state with me.
and on the way out finally turned four shades of red.
and then i got into the car,
and he drove me. an hour home
to my mother tending to my sister,
who was up with contact dermatitis.

today
i got up. and put the water on.
i came back downstairs and the kettle was bone dry
and sparking on the stove. the kitchen filled with
a metallic smoke. i opened the windows.
and then i had a cookie.
and sat down.

FIN.