Thursday, June 28, 2007
Today I was angry. I was in jeans with you again and couldn't find my deep pocket hands. Remember when I reached down your deep pants treasure and discovered America. Pants. I can't wear or throw away my pants on your birthday. The first court we made out of stardust, I knew this by heart, the basketball became my shatterproof box to remember you by. When you walked, when the fishes stopped, when clouds, when my memories wave. Dunk me in the stream, the stream, the only stream outside your door to America's best ocean wave. I will not remember to rotate.