walking down the sidewalk
with two brown, full paper bags

I don't remember my great ideas
and drawings in my head, from years ago. quite saddening.

i like old things, things of season and things I think about loving

it looks pathetic, because it's hot outside
and i'm wearing a long sleeve button up

and in a sea foam green painted room
with golden rod, flower curtains
dark wood furniture
and wiring on the walls,
there was an open door
left for me to follow

random times to catch up, and be lovers
fall out of branches, and latch onto traffic
headed far north, for a season

but certain things remain
and I hope to rekindle that great thought I had
but some things are to remain unsaid, I suppose...

then, when I realize no one knows where I am,
I think:

plans are only here to discount the voids in my life.
there aren't really any random happenstances.
so I try to be hospitable, not to make things disappointing.
but I also want to make nice drinks for people...
even if I remain a Gatsby for a few more whiles

"Dear Starbucks,
You've done quite a fantastic job in mixing culture with your products and services, for the most part. But the part that isn't covered by the most part, really sucks." -Ben Stiller, in Greenberg