Rendezvous

She played it up like the seed you say on the front west end. She was stolen blame and gracefully shredding tolls. She paralleled completely and nastily and totaled something more than friendly, gained something less than nothing.

There was nothing in the black white winter of whatever wasn't between us anymore and so we each took to our own way the way ways go. And with a sky so made of stone it made our only sense to hide and run. It was back before the bad, top-heavy action masters, porcelain dolls that looked the way your mother wanted, cobwebs thick with stolen glances and half-hearted tries for late night rendezvous.

She weren't quick, took her time, like I had a wonder. She theoried that we'd see what we were all about a half dozen years down some road but never said just how cracked it'd be. Falling down bottles, plastic, glass, caps, labels, shaking, splashing, difference combinations leading me to put one and one and two and two together getting numbers only crazy celebrities can get. I'll wake up now in the middle of a night and jot these phrases, returning to them as if I mean something.

And this all happened so fast. She played it up like future. And me here wait, following a long door to a short answer. I am trouble in.