(no subject)

[gute_nacht]

ryan adams made me write a poem on the train today.

we imagined the three pine trees
in the front yard
to be something of a forest,
where we got lost most every day.
"are those butterflies?"
i asked, pointing
to the brown, bristled
would-be cocoons
hanging from the trees.
"no, stupid, those are pine cones."
no, stupid. of course,
of course they were pine cones.
i was only fooling.
cant you tell when im fooling?
no, stupid.