(no subject)

Aug 01, 2005 19:29

I don't like writing in here anymore.

I'm lucky number thirteen.

I look at that picture and I don't know who it is.
We are so far apart now you don't know. Maybe if I had told you, or even cared enough to tell you.

No. Smoking at night under street lights. Naps in the day time and Jeep rides. Good bud and even better times together. Laugh, laugh, laugh and fun. The old explorer. Seen too many good times and had to retire. Running from campus security with the apple pie. In a tree. In Transit. Where are you ? Blueberry Festival. We were together then. Random Houses. Fresh sheets. webshots. Split shifts and trips to the apartment. The Industry. Dress up and nights out. Old Port and one way streets. Tums. Captain and coke. The smell of camp. "Deanna you smell like old sleeping bags and camp fire...". "Sorry". There were good times. We slipped away, but you ran. I've been here stuck in neutral. Not a bad place to be.

all the times we must have passed by

In a tree?
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