seethingblue's Diaryland Diary

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wabi

dear diary,

shaved ice days are days i like the most but there isn't much to do; the beach umbrellas are being put away.

when i was little, i wanted an x-ray of my foot to hang on the fridge. i wrote letters to my last best friend, the one who moved or stayed. stamps were so precious; i knew songs by heart.

today i dreamt of underwater caverns and the way your arms were never crossed. wooden slats to block off the torreya tree, the one that will never grow again. a sycamore diseased, camoflauge bark, all the bluffs, and the converging highway. there were two wooden signs: chattahoochee this way, rock assembly of God straight ahead.

i just want to be in your city, embraced, head against the taxicab window.

i miss jackets; i miss stickers.

23:34 - 29 September, 2003

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