Long night lounging in some long johns; last bite of your bagel then it’s all gone. The sun is almost hitting my pot of dust full of ashes gathered from a megabus. Landlines and living in the old age. Usually home, but you can always catch me on page. Whoever asked for the time? I think it’s a quarter to nine, or maybe half past prime–I wouldn’t be surprised. ‘Cause it’s a long life, and this is last call. So sure I’ll say it again: the “best” was never enough. Maybe it’s just tough luck? Either way, I’m alive (at least for most of the time). I think it’s probably tough luck, yeah. Sort of like summertime again, “slow and steady” straggle behind. Sort of like summertime again. Am I losing my mind? Then go ahead, walk away. Go ahead, alright.
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