08.15.02 :: 9:13 am

It always means that whoever pops into my brain at 3AM while I'm wide awake and not thinking about my past is going to trot back into my life any day now.

But I really hope not.

A rain-soaked phone booth on the Upper East side.

A pair of blue canvas sneakers.

A volume of poetry on 4 cassettes.

I wish I couldn't remember you.

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