ever dumbening I-580 W @ 238

Matt and I driving home from work. Maybe six or seven days each year it happens. A tidal wave of honeysuckle fills the vents, fills my spirit. Does he not notice, or not care?

I imagine a stash so large the consumers can't keep up--the excess spills onto the freeway. Do your job; why should I be forced to think of possibility? Why should I be forced to recognize I'm not dreaming hard enough?

Now I'm forced to pull the thread and consume the tiny dew. It seems like hard work to me. Then the scentless days return.
ClairE I wish I could be as obvious, and pleasing, to you. 011224
(smirking) cube Yeah, is there an aftershave?...
HidingOnTheWall bittersweet memories 060315
what's it to you?
who go