April 19, 2009

things I miss

the sound of locusts in the trees, salt potatoes, rocking chairs with their white paint flecked and chipping, my mother, the inner miles of the ridge trail, the sharp smell of tomato vines in the garden by the pond, snowballs, a husky/shepherd mix, sangria at the mission, saturday mornings at the market, racing in the 200m, dunkin donuts iced coffee, my first car, your arms around my waist, christian thorne's gothic theory class, nights on the balcony bent over a notebook, letting myself into your apartment to leave you flowers on bad days, jumping 2'6", the outdoor shower, drunken biking across the pontoon bridge, crab feasts, sweet tea, a home answering machine, my ponytail, waiting for your letters, singing out your car window, the far field, the tarzan swing, the dogwood tree in the front yard, the coffee and cologne smell of your studio, our stupid passive-aggressive literary arguments, playing the clarinet, you, and you, and you.

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