September 27, 2002 | 2:43 a.m.
just some raincoated lovers.

drunk and wet. still thinking how dull i must seem to you.

as you swear with both hands on swinging hips of rockabilly legends, some things are better left undone. my rhetoric blows umbrellas into clawed catchers mitts: its instead, that things go better left unsaid. and i say everything in the one way i know how. haunting the past 'til it sounds like the buzz of bicycle spokes, the hum of winged bugs and pick up sticks, something sick or stupid. something so much like nothing. i cant tell the difference.

still.. there are pieces sparking in me like forgotten flames in denim pockets. youve just got to want to learn the warmth of me.