coffeewhiskey

my socks keep falling down, but I'm not old enough to wear those sock ankle holders, neither am I newscaster enough, dan rather, I would rather not. I would like to walk down to the piers and bark at the seals, in nine jackets with my breath belching clearly in front of me, but it is raining. If the park wasn't so muggy (muggy like you'll get mugged) I would love to wander through it in the rain at night, I'd find trees worth crawling into where the fairies sleep (not the gays) I would go where the water does when it collects, following winter streams down summer gullies is an unknown hobby of mine. But i will sit here tonight, jump screen to screen, and think about the beach where the sand is wet no matter the tide, where the waves slap the rain down like flies, where nobody is and if nobody sees you as far as anybody knows neither are you. My hair parts best in the rain, there is a high point of a hill less then a mile from here, if only those clouds were any lower I would climb it, then look down through them completely dry like tops of unending waterfalls, where all the water goes to fall. Set up camp, boil water on an old stove just above the clouds if nothing else to see water fall and rise in the same place at the same time, a magician if you're ignorant, boring if you're not. Put on my best tie and run into city hall soaking wet with documents of nonsense rain washed just enough to look important, shuffle through them like they are important, plea and yell like they are important, be escorted away like they weren't, sell them to some old man like they are, a nickle, he'll burn them for the warmth, nonsense he would tell you, will keep you warmer then the shit they stew up there as he points to city hall, nonsense I think, then I will never be cold.