The lava lamp has me by a chokehold. I find myself staring at it's sun-bleached wax, watching in float around like a homeless drunk in it's oddly-shaped jar. I feel like a stoner
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i keep waiting to talk to you and always seem to fail at catching you. like tonight. i went out to the garage to look in my boxes of books for one on lilacs and when i came back, you just got off line.
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--ethan
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