novembre ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- tonal memories much like broken strings wound around fingers there is the telephone. here is his telephone number. there is the dialtone. i know what will be said when i really do call. i am putting it off because his voice reminds me of being eleven, sleeping on his floor, inhaling dust mixed with my grandmother's bubblebath scent floating down the hallway, and of being bad at math. 6:14 pm - 07.31.02 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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