the girl at the bottom of the glass (E.E.H.)
The balance is the balance is the balance, I hate it when you sing Voltaire. The street by my house is covered in rock salt and you want to run barefoot here.
It seems your snowboard shots came out a little underexposed, and I laugh like lightning as I hand you your clothes.
There are thin pink vines growing up your arms and I know how long and why. There’s a bottle of saki in the closet and a joint that isn’t mine.
You don’t go far for college- and I don’t go far at all. We’re always about two towns away but never close enough to call.
Sometimes when it’s late or I need inspiration I look at the photos you took on the mountain I read your songs about Jesus and the horror of being too old to be seventeen. Because I’m twenty-early and you’re pushing thirty; and it’s never too soon to retreat to the 20-20 wisdom and the black and white vision that’s left like a stain on our teeth.
The balance is the balance is the balance, I love the icicle in your voice, When you ask me do you know me like it’s an answerable question Or like either of us have a choice.
