fuck around, lay around, do or die

I have on my space pirate captain harlock t-shirt that I've had since I was 11 or so. turned inside out.

it smells like the 6th grade, fading scent of today's deoderant, one thousand cigarettes and dusty sublevels of an art museum.

...the sound of the dope piano.

if I may ask for what you wanted, also?

We'll take two of each.

always two of each.

with sprinkles,

and cherries on top.

I rediscovered a scar on my shin. it looks like it hurt, once.

a doctor once said, while looking at my feet, "calloused feet, a real working man."

currently, waterlogged.

it all evaporates to be dropped back on us, later.