Untitled
November 23, 2006

sometimes I forget
that when it rains
you get wet

I am washed away
there goes the notion
of anything less
than beautiful
so so perfect
than embracing the element
letting it take you away
from wet shoes and cold
hands
a long bus ride home

and sometimes I wouldn't know
on that long bus ride home that
in a flurry of people
we're all truley alone

so far away
from any notion
that we are mere
strangers
less than beautiful
less than perfect:

not drunk, but happy
not staring, but speaking
not distant, but dancing
not soaking, but splashing