thecowboy

shoots. where the time goes i fucking do not know. five minits, a week, a year, whatever...when it snows, ive always been hard to reach...this is the season, this is the time and i take off my watch for most of it so as to corral the remainder of wild sanity left to break in for the winter. and when i drive to work, its orange on the mountains and bombs in the early mornin' with hot coffee, so when i leave its more red the light of the mountain...smoke, crack of beers, bars of big skies and goggle burns, big jackets flung across chairs and the stories of cliff drops and deepsteep chutes fullspeed and ski p's in red, trees and weedsmoke in the gondolas, mad tram rides to the top break down in reckless abandon..winter and drew is happy. and making good money. and on his way to vegas for sia representing no less than the club. sure, its elitist. sure its the richest of the rich. but its my shop. and the hookups supreme. and right now, its snowing real well. and it falls slowly under yellow and streetcorner light perfect in still and framed in a spooky silence..kisses.