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Posted on 2008.03.15 at 21:31
Current Mood: thankfulthankful
bob dylan, sylvia plath, the treesitter, ginsberg—they’re all off my walls and packed, ready for bellingham. oh, and let’s not forget joan baez. she’s tucked away in a box too, next to bobbie, leaning over her guitar to touch the back his hand. he can feel her breath on his ear, but he still can’t see her. still won’t let her love him. and me? i’m ready for bellingham, too. and it let’s me love it. i remember feeling its breath on my ear in the park. i can tell even the the hackysackers won’t exasperate me anymore—they are so much more forgivable than the hipsters around here. at least their dirt is born from a lack of communing with the capitalists, as opposed to a wayward fashion statement that will never make sense to me. ah well, my walls are bare except for the ballerinas above my head. everything is gravitating north. everything’s making the cold, hard crawl across this town.

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