You start like this:
Standing on a 4'x6' balcony at the death of fall. Long fingered hands, cold and trembling, trying to hold still your half-lit cigarette. The smoke makes shadows on the night, and you see ribcages hanging off the trees in the twilight. Wind rattles the venetian blinds on your roomate's window, and you startle and jump,
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Comments 4
It may be that next year I transfer to a college either in NYC or Vermont. We should meet up so I can hear your voice. You should read to me.
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We should. I would like that quite a bit.
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I've never apreciated how lovely your voice is. Or even realized. Only when you sing. But it is always soothing. Like the walking under yellow leaves and wet tree limbs, and fluid clouds...
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Love you much.
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