lovers and sweethearts.
They are out there you know, the secret hearts, but these people are fragile and ephemeral as a smile in childhood. Yet they do exist. Places in the heart-oasis' where you may truly escape what we have come to think of as the world. Like walking down Yesterday Street. Dancing to music that was written and recorded before you were born. In those places you are safe from harm and sheltered from sorrrow. If you find one of those places, and then leave it, as I have done, you may spend the rest of your life with the better part of your soul living in the shadow of regret.
Love and happiness-it's either a hospital or whorehouse.
I saddled up and rode off to the lesbian bar, they wouldn't let me enter. I wondered if I had a discrimination suit?
The song I wanted on the radio was about as hard to find as an innocent priest.
Every one hundred years or so. She deflected the concept like a rare interlude, like a moonbeam trying to find a lover. I looked thoughtfully out at the endless Texas night. The night had become as dark as my mood. Such were the somber thoughts and deeds that came to mind this morning like the heavy grey clouds that hung heavy in the sky.
I had looked at her and wished, not for the first time, that she would never leave. She must have seen it in my eyes as she walked away into the night .
The loverly and oft mentioned Freckles the Lesbian dance class instructor and I had dinner last night. Her eyes are still the color of bluebonnets.
Watching the slow decay, first written 2. Jan. 2009
2 months ago