Wednesday, January 23, 2008

The Smell of the Fabric of Your Simple City Dress...



The sea glass, the small split rock, the hours of conversation, the giggles, the crazy noises, the knowing the ramifications, the different "outfit" every day, the driving so far, the waiting so long, the card, the lingering, lingering, lingering, the tempting, tempting, tempting, the beasts, the fearlessness in front of friends, the sighing at just the right time, the shaking of the new haircut to Metallica in a bar with a lopsided pool table, and the smell of the fabric of your simple city dress...


Jeff Buckley is where the title comes from. Yep, that's where it comes from. Poor, dead Jeff Buckley.

I'm not ready for the Mississippi just yet.

5 comments:

Stacy Leigh said...

Damn- You've got it bad.





:P

D.L. Wood said...

Are you pining for the girl or Poor, dead Jeff Buckley?

D.L. Wood

Mockingbird Girl said...

I'm going to just say "ditto" to what Stacy said.

:-)

Glad your anguish is of the longing kind these days darling.

Sarah said...

Perfect.

BLISS said...

maybe....

desire...
Purely divine and luxurious
tender restraint ,breathy sweetness of
physical hunger ...exotic...
reaching...pushing through the darkness
-fleurs

xo fleurs