It’s hard to know what will become of silent afternoons and the tears spilled on our bed and so many promises, but your hands and eyes and the way you brace me with your arm if you slam on the brakes excites me still like a mysterious lipstick stain.

And the left side of your chest, just below your collar bone, is more home to me than any structure.

I’m so bored with my normal haunts.

Recommend to me a really great non-weblog site. Something you love. Maybe you read it everyday. It can be anything at all. My favorite five submissions gets a copy of my latest mix CD project, Saddest Sad Songs Ever. Mailed to your front door. Or to your P.O. Box, you secretive, scandalous freak.

Choose wisely and thanks for playing.