Thursday, May 25, 2006

I walked home from Met Park this evening under a sky that was spitting rain. Sometime just between a tree whose purple-blue flowers smelled of soap and a group of guys smoking pot my favorite song started up inside my headphones and the sky lightened and stopped dripping.

It only lasted half a block or so, but for a very little while I believed again in the power of scotch tape, that I will manage to pull myself out of this and stick myself back together. And then with the scents of soap and pot smoke still lingering in my nose the song ended, and the rain started back up.

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