suppose: Jan. 27, 2002 (10:24 am)

i am on a bridge. one side is loosely anchored to the and and the other disapears into the clouds which hide the grey blue sky. every piece of my past has walked over that bridge and disapears into the clouds. i look at the clouds and the clouds appear to make shapes. shapes which i want. boys taking books out of bags with patches that read 'free the media', distant smiles, briliant blue eyes.

i want someone to walk out of those clouds.

but i suppose that's impossible.

< - > - all - p - n - d