the ramble of the people around me drowning out my ability to taste
but i adore the practice of observation
i like waving at babies
i read whitman out loud
i take breaks at thrift stores, walking between vendors with such intensity — i start to get light headed
i have had more caffeine than i have eaten food today
the two guys sitting in the garage were playing songs from my memory. i ask strangers for change until i find enough to give.
a lady that sounded like cigarette smoke told me i was quite a pretty little girl.
i park in trespassed spaces. i get out to walk instead.
i read my freeform prose over the crying of strollers.