We wanted to make history.
We wanted to make this an
epic thing filled with riots
and dangerous kissing
behind liquor stores,
feeling the thrill of
being chased to death,
having our hearts
beating on the edge.

Or perhaps, that was what I wanted.
Darling, you only wanted waffles,
sugary and tasty at 8 A.M;
holding hands while listening
to Harvey Milk on the radio.
"You gotta give them hope," he'd said.

You always liked a good
old-fashioned thunderstorm,
watching from the window
as it ripped open the sea
and spilled its foamy secrets
all over the harbor.

so...i haven't written anything worthwhile since the beginning of august. and then i wrote this just now.....

so yeah, tell me what you think....

for the record, this is fiction, though you're probably smart enough to figure it out, but yeah.....didn't happen.

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"I see your taste in fashion hasn't changed."