i feel better.
dear allison,
i still have your number in my phone even though it doesn't work anymore. but it is, in some way, my only anchor to you and so i keep it there. the same number you had when i passed you notes on the school bus, when you were drunk in parking lots and naked in cars. even over the years, when i have dialed it from afar, it somehow connects me, if not entirely directly, to you. although i don't have your new phone number, i still know where you are. i know we still love each other and will see each other now and then (though not often) and i will always look at your eyes and think of the smell of sunscreen and cigarettes and sweet cocktails, of the kisses and kisses and crying and, mostly, of the perpetual search for something we couldn't quite find. i hope you are writing a lot and taking valium not so much, though i know we both enjoyed a good valium. i hope you feel loved and sexy and smart and fabulously alone/connected. i love you terribly and will always miss you. you are the only cowgirl i have ever truly loved.
today i finally noticed that the darkness is creeping up to an earlier hour. this is the first glimmer of fall.
dear allison,
i still have your number in my phone even though it doesn't work anymore. but it is, in some way, my only anchor to you and so i keep it there. the same number you had when i passed you notes on the school bus, when you were drunk in parking lots and naked in cars. even over the years, when i have dialed it from afar, it somehow connects me, if not entirely directly, to you. although i don't have your new phone number, i still know where you are. i know we still love each other and will see each other now and then (though not often) and i will always look at your eyes and think of the smell of sunscreen and cigarettes and sweet cocktails, of the kisses and kisses and crying and, mostly, of the perpetual search for something we couldn't quite find. i hope you are writing a lot and taking valium not so much, though i know we both enjoyed a good valium. i hope you feel loved and sexy and smart and fabulously alone/connected. i love you terribly and will always miss you. you are the only cowgirl i have ever truly loved.
today i finally noticed that the darkness is creeping up to an earlier hour. this is the first glimmer of fall.
steve perry rulz