Wednesday, December 24, 2008

A Ghost Of A Person I Used To Want To Be

We ate spaghetti and then had long, lazy sex on the couch by the window that looks out on the beach. The curtains were half drawn, the breeze blew in through the screen and I could smell the salt air and the seagull shit. Somewhere, off in the distance, I could hear groups of people singing and making love in the sand. The song of summer played all night as we writhed and turned on that couch and the ocean talked to us until we forgot what it was talking about and somewhere in the middle of it all, I realized that I didn't know who I was anymore.

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