Sunday, July 22, 2007

In Chic Long Ago

I've been reading a lot of elevator certification certificates. I nearly stepped on a little robin, half fuzzy and half feathered. I thought I'd call him Benny and hoped he'd still be around the afternoon. How far can a bird that can't fly get? Plenty far, I suppose - look how far I went.

Surely stilletto heels get stuck in the sidewalk and the grates. There must be a whole layer of greening pennies and expensive pens at the bottom of the river. I'm dreaming about banana-cherry-blue Slushies, my red sheets, Lord Voldemort and the way I'll kiss everyone forever. There was dirt in the cracks of my lips; it was beautiful.

If I'm soaked head to bare toes, again, will I be electrocuted on the escalator? Best to take the stairs, I think. I can see the changes in the light through my closed eyes. Tomorrow didn't go like I planned in the least.
Seven weeks of river walkways
Seven weeks of reading papers
Seven weeks of feeling guilty
Seven weeks of staying up all night

- Belle & Sebastian, "A Summer Wasting"

2 Comments:

Anonymous ELLEN DELETED HER BLOG AGAIN said...

My dad works in the city and on his smoke brakes, he sits by the parking garages and watches ladies break their stillettos in the grates. He says all of them always have the same reaction!

July 22, 2007 1:01 PM  
Anonymous Emily said...

Hm... you write so interestingly. I wonder where you get the ideas...

I must admit that I've thought about Lord Voldemort, too, but in small incriments. Especially after Deathly Hallows.

July 31, 2007 5:20 PM  

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