or whenever,
seemed such a focused endeavor,
when i read 20:21...
were you angry,
when maynard poked fun?
i don't know,
guess it's beyond me.
under the awning,
hotboxing, and cold-coughing,
this january wind
goes straight to your soul,
and exhales through your bones;
makes me imagine i'm old...
or older,
brings me back to my roots,
and i still think about you.
as i tread back inside,
i see my human reflection;
guess you know how to
dish it out too...
omnipotential humor?
maybe sarcasm...
the man has beckoned,
so it's back to my cube.
Last edited by ottoavist at Mar 20, 2008,