March 16, 2006 | 10:37 p.m.
don't they know it's the end of the world.

we’re so up in the air that the planes tip their wings, tickle our love toes wide awake. and the birds have begun to bury their bickering beaks in our nest hairs. songs i am not used to. songs that are not you. please hum them sweetly from the trees. and do not leave.