Friday, January 18, 2008

i don't think the ira ever ate thai food.

i smell like pad thai and cigarettes tonight.

sexual tension is worse than nervousness,
the palpable difference in the air around you,
and the way he apologized late last night.

the rug smells funny, grease and lighter fluid, pipe bombs and dirty hair.

cigarette butts scatter my floor, looking like ireland.

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