77 Words (11-9-11)

November 9, 2011 — Leave a comment

We sat outside while the smell of patchouli manifested throughout the interior.

Cigarette smoke snaked around our shapes as Van Morrison managed to move about our inner most thoughts.

Not a word was spoke.

We stood mesmerized by  interstellar happenings and the daily bullshit that managed to keep us involved and intertwined.

Until you-Like a junky-managed to make sense of the inconsistencies of my slurred speech and helped while I fumbled to find words that met your intellect.

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