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6/03/2008

essay: 095 : Sweet strains of Piaf

sunset

I ponder.
With a mind, never at peace.
With itself.
Searching eternally.

Drove, through banks of fog.
6am, this morning.
God, it was beautiful.
Neon suffused.
Oceans mists.
Thought of Berlin.
The sweet strains of Piaf.
Drifting, through my ipod world.

Should I write words.
That make you weep?
Or smile, like atomic suns...

J'adore.
Every.
Last.
Drop...


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