there's something about ambiguously planned friday's that's almost as magical as the feeling of staying up too late, til morning breaks. i sat here in this same spot some hours ago when ledoncie offered a plan. tiffany chain smoked and i leaned against a window, sitting between a door and a chelsea.
what is it about friday nights in a graveyard with flashlights and cigarettes?
what is it about certain situations where my house could be less than fifteen minutes away, but it feels like lightyears between where i am and where else i could be. what is it about ghost hunting, finger tips freezing, amanda's crotch got stuck on the flag pole, holding hands, backs to other backs, foot steps and fits of giggles bubbling out of five pairs of jeans on the prowl, little vanilla milkshakes, jared's car is slow, rain drops flying from windshields, spilled tea, switching rides, making due, pants falling, holes in the front of your jeans, flash lights spying across the wet ground, lights and ashes and singing the lyrics we know,
some things are meant to have a monopoly on. not friendships, not plans, not habits. but moments that have already passed. it's not that i belong to those moments exclusively, it's just that i feel like they really belong to me.
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