Fry St.

27 Feb

(For Andrew)

We watched her sway

in the drizzling rain

to Willie.

Because it seemed

he’d

“written the song just for her.”

She was drunken

stoned and crazy.

The front headlights

captured her dancing

in an almost tragic way,

like a scene

out of a

David Lynch movie.

It was too late to

be so loud.

But it was college.

and we lived in

a college town.

I wondered quietly

how long would

these organically magical moments

continue to happen with us.

~Edward Austin Robertson~

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