"I am the parasite of this town." - Nick Drake
The world ended the day we met, so we decided to take it slow. You were soft and sweet, and I, I was just doing my damnedest not to let this fledgling apocalypse get the best of me.
In the coffee shop, when you asked, “Where are you from?” I thought to myself, “What does it matter?” but answered, “The South,” even though it was already under a million–trillion grams of sea water. You batted your sympathetic eyes, and later, much later, maybe months later, not even in a coffee shop but lying on an unmade bed, I emptied out my entire messenger bag of yesterday's bad news.
Read the rest at The Ear Hustler: http://www.earhustlermag.com/issue4/4miller.html