Forget the air mattress with you.

Everybody mostly asleep on the cement cellar floor, a string of blue lights reflected in my eyes.

Love like a child.

I'm being bad
and I know I would stop myself if I was more awake.
You ask what I'm thinking at the very worst point and I say something that is not a lie--
say something about my hair looking like the girl's from Balto, when she's sick with that cough
and her hair is all out on the pillow.
She's a cartoon but I feel sick, too.
I feel sick about asking you to act like an adult after all that.

I easily could have mistaken it for a sunrise.

The sun was setting on the harbour and I was just waking up, last time I was on an airplane.