A week later she is still with me. She is departing by degrees. If I tore her hair out, no one but me would love her. But she don't want me to tear her hair out. I wear different shirts for her: red, orange, silver. We hold hand through the night.
Donald Barthelme
A week later she is still with me. She is departing by degrees. If I tore her hair out, no one but me would love her. But she don't want me to tear her hair out. I wear different shirts for her: red, orange, silver. We hold hand through the night.