the rain is doing some of that forrest gump movement flying this way and that, darting, dashing, going upside down, twisting like a paper airplane in a hurricane.
in the old days id be upset if my girl said “k, i will make a quick appearance, come and get you and we can go home,” and then make her showing an hour and change instead of a few minutes.
but in the old days i was an asshole who thought that fighting ever led to anything.
nowadays its an excersize in mellowness. how mellow can one be. how cool can you go. how sweet can your smile be and how real can you make it.
i know her heart is in the right place, i know how much her fellow swedes mean to her. her papa is a diplomat after all and shes a quasi princess, at least thats what the inscription in her crown says, at least thats what the sparkle in her smile says, at least thats the fear in the hearts of her parents whispers our girl is royalty how dare she hang out all night with aging tp3.
and the lights are bright at night inside the cold offices of the xbi when nothings going on and the security guards walk by and say never see you around this late, everything ok? oh yeah, great.
fights happen when one person pretends a little more than he should that hes been wronged. that he deserves something better. that he has been damaged in some way. i havent been damaged. shes just late. thats all. just late. the wind doesnt complain that its cold. the rain doesnt argue with the palm tree.
i think my spidey senses say its true.
yep. thats she.