Home   |  Captain's Log  |  About  |  Random  |  Pictures  |  Links  | Contact Me
WORDS TO LIVE BY

If it's tourist season, why can't we shoot them?

YOUR DAILY DOSE

James Lileks - The Bleat
The Onion
Satire Wire
Tim Blair, A Blog
VodkaPundit
Ken Layne
Hittman Chronicle
#usr/bin/girl
Little Green Footballs
Instapundit
Virginia Postrel
TechCentral
Best of the Web
The Corner
Jonah Goldberg
Overlawyered
Dave Kopel
Kausfiles
Talking Points
Joanne Jacobs
Michael Barone
Andrew Sullivan
Pundit Watch
Matt Welch
Adragna & Vehrs
Patrick Ruffini
Bjorn Staerk
Fredrik Norman
Andrea See
Frank Cagle
Jerry Pournelle
Rand Simberg
SpinSanity
Charles Johnson
Samizdata
SmarterTimes
U.S.S. Clueless
The Occasional
UThant.Com
RealClear Politics
Damian Penny
Hollywood Investigator
Natalie Solent
Shiloh Bucher
Jeff Jarvis NanoDot
Sgt. Stryker
Listen Missy
The Daily Dose
Joshua Trevino
Doc Searls
Charles Murtaugh
NewsRack
Wil Wheaton
Think Geek
Cows with Guns
This Modern World
BB Spot
Fark
Retrocrush
IMockery
Something Awful
Obey Giant
Unrealistic Expectations
The Editing Room

                     more...
RECOMMENDED SITES


The ISF Players
Halve Mein Hash
Missing - Suzanne Lyall

Arc
Sounding Board
CRUMBS

Pumpkin Masters
Emotion Eric

Sluggy Freelance
Dilbert
Sinfest
User Friendly
PVP Online
                     more...

DESK TOP POP CAN COUNT


Currently: 234 Cans



Site Update Log
Site Map
Web Site Resume

Random Works Index

 
<< Previous Work >> Next Work
Typical

I thought I was looking at you
Turns out I saw a reflection
Only saw what you wanted me to see
And nothing more

We are treacherous cavern
full of twist and turns
and slippery spots
You keep pressing in
I keep pulling
Back

If I were a house
full of windows and doors
and locked in spaces
you would hold the key

If I were a car
you could take me for a country drive
Take a couple of sharp turns
get a thrill out of a ride

You could live in me
Until the walls needed paint
You could ride in me
Until you ran out of gas

Of course I don't mind
if you live your life
without me

Feeling your lips
on my forehead and cheeks,
and on my salty lips
these are memories

I am tossed back into my conundrum
Indecision
You keep asking me what I want

I'll tell you what I want
I want to hear what
you want

Some moments need no words
And this is one of them

<< Previous Work >> Next Work


  Home  |  Captain's Log  |  About  |  Message Board  |  Random  |  Pictures  |  Links  |  Contact Me
Site Design by: Don, The infinitely prolonged © Copyright 2002 Don Howe. All Rights Reserved