hey there, this is linton. we went to the same high school together, i'm not sure if you remember me. i think we were in the same art class. i found your livejournal thru six degrees of separation. i didn't know you knew kevin bacon. anyway, the other day i found this poem you and i wrote together on a blank diskette. i'll post it here (is html allowed? if not i apologize for all the "br"s that'll probably show up):
driving on saturday night
driving the stateline straight through.
acellerating 90km 110 km 150km to eventually hit 250km screamming down those backroads
the human eye sees at eleven frames per second.
was his mind thinking at the speed of the passing stripes ? 1...2...3....4.... his heart raced almost as fast as he
could run and could jump through hoops of could fire.
though nothing seemed to distract
her childlike demure, his foreboading rancor
retract your sextant.
brake light!!! what?!? no not now not ever but not now pump pump whats happening no slowing no stoping SHIT DOWN SHIFT DOWN!!! no control
quietly from a distance metal into flesh, flesh into glass, glass into gas and gas to fire. shokwave. . . and no more but a pillar of black on the hill side
return your favors to the department store clerk with the red hair. as he lightly depresses his hand upon conclusion of a handshake, instantly constrict the muscles in your hand to crush his lily, freckled, frial fingers.
he gets in his blue rusted 89 civic and drives cautiously of into the sunset
driving on saturday night
driving the stateline straight through.
acellerating 90km 110 km 150km to eventually hit 250km screamming down those backroads
the human eye sees at eleven frames per second.
was his mind thinking at the speed of the passing stripes ? 1...2...3....4.... his heart raced almost as fast as he
could run and could jump through hoops of could fire.
though nothing seemed to distract
her childlike demure, his foreboading rancor
retract your sextant.
brake light!!! what?!? no not now not ever but not now pump pump whats happening no slowing no stoping SHIT DOWN SHIFT DOWN!!! no control
inflicted with alertness.
alerted of infliction.
sick oil slick. sick oil slick. sick oil slick. sick oil slick. sick oil slick. sick oil slick. sick oil slick. sick oil slick.
quietly from a distance metal into flesh, flesh into glass, glass into gas and gas to fire. shokwave. . . and no more but a pillar of black on the hill side
return your favors to the department store clerk with the red hair. as he lightly depresses his hand upon conclusion of a handshake, instantly constrict the muscles in
your hand to crush his lily, freckled, frial fingers.
he gets in his blue rusted 89 civic and drives cautiously of into the sunset
driving on a saturday night
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment