Saturday, April 07, 2007

I'm so tired.

The city lights flicker across her face like the memories of her years. Above the head rest of the passengar seat, her tuft of hair glows a smokey white. I remember clearly the day the war started. Oh Jane. Frank, beside her, weaves through downtown traffic and his wife's words of caution.

I'd write your stories, I would.
You're a part of mine.