i say hello to a collage of older thoughts complemented nicely with buttons. four hole buttons and not snaps like the shirt we found that made me feel like cowboy dressed in blue. i hope that your rowboat is filled with admission tickets and the man behind the velvet rope motions to me like he is hailing a cab late night in brooklyn or stumbling out of a bar without direction way too drunk to be walking in a village that we owned that night. kings of pool and the waitresses knew us by first name. pennys and dimes pocketed and the shelf life of those buttons is boundless.
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