(no subject)
I dreamt that you got married in the back of a volvo. I watched from a storefront window while you and your bride and the entire wedding party climbed out the back of it. You were emitting sunlight. You all came into the store and drank beer and champagne and ate hors d'oeuvres. We talked in a corner and your eyes were the same and you let me burn holes in your jeans with a blow torch. Later there were children about and each was the childhood embodiment of an historical figure. One particularly innocent looking one was Hitler and I gave each of these children stickers and then we tied balloons to their wrists and watched them float away. Your bride took pictures with her camera.
They were like fireworks.
They were like fireworks.