Saturday, August 21, 2004

Cinnamon Day!

She smelled like clean sweat and that peach perfume she wore. Her hair stunk of streams. In the morning her breath tasted like hot rain squiggling through the whiskers above your lip into your mouth (kiss her awake and kiss her till she begs for coffee). One day you hope you forget what she looked like and only remember her odor.

Happy Cinnamon Day!