Typical Friday?

There's an empty room that a stripped tee-shirt boy plays his piano for, but for now we're still clarity filled and our eyes are not yet red as we mold in the couch at the back of the room. Feet take us to the boutique shop upstairs where she buys records and i buy an old man pipe for eight bucks-the incense were for her mother. Awkwardly park our car in a dead give away corner, so we rearrange ourselves besides a truck and ease the glass down a few inches for raw air. Laughter and the giggles-always taking her forever to pass and i hallucinate snowmen over my left shoulder, gripping the wheel inside the truck behind us. Men running around us or at least half a mile away and ever single pair of lights she sees, "COPS!" Every time i believe her; she blows her smoke to the floor and i don't know why. After a sincere cry, we pace over a frozen patch of water and walk into an audience of a small crowd where we turn our heads to hear, "Hey, do you lady's want to sit on the couch with us, there is room?"

Gay boys wanna get creative? "Come on, it'll be fun," he says while petting her blonde hair...