Sometimes foresight is finding a place to landnand then gambling with your tired feetnand not caring how long you can standnwe drove home in decembernand you said you were coldnas I rolled down the windownnand you could see your breathnbut i was the only one lookingntrying to read the conversationnbut instead I was putting words into your mouthnand defrost is just another word for clarity nbetween the breath you and menand we drove home besides the fact that we stayed the night beside the highway in my headnand you can starve or you can sell outnbut if you stay the nightnI'll make you breakfast with whatever I can find in the front seat of my carnnLooking for a sweaternmy whole lifenfound it when I was 17ncolor green that doesn't grow that had rips on the sleevesnwhen I came out nwith it raised triumphantly above my headneverybody stared past me into the closet from which I camennand you can think what I've heard you wantnyou can say it's unnatural nall I know is I'm sure as hell am not making this upnhe has a girlfriend as pretty as she can benI've been dating myself for quite some timenI've never crossed the linesnI've learned too wellnnWhen I say I like younall I mean to say isnI don't see the need for destinationnwe can set up shop in the backseatnnext to frantic blowing tree and the broken paper cupsnnand on the way downnto meet the groundnI don't care what the surfacenthe more you stare at the bricks on which we standnthe more water you, the more water you, the more water you, the more water younseenthe more water you see