Random Scrap:
When you cross the street you see a palm tree. A man with a guitar. Playing that late night song before the street goes to bed. Hey, get a cd. 10 dollars. My greatest hits! For-get about it. Pull out a gun, cross the street. Or don't. Put up your hand and hold them up. That's right. To the right is your white chocolate mocha. The treasure. The skarb. The left, the Thai placed you applied to. Un-sucsely. The library you wrote the begging letter so they would let you in pre-time. No, the doors are shut. You wait here. For what? For that feeling it breeze bringing the story from the far ocean. The plane taking off, the look on your face. The love. The love can't wait. Anymore. The Warszawa restaurant you are no Grata. Go back to your mama. She's got you some food, she got you some juice. TV dinner. Serial TV from the satelite dish. The Volkswagen that stands but does not drive. Anywhere. In that dark parking alley where you'll pick up the car. Your freedom. The 101. Toxic Britney. The dawn. The calm. The chill. The awakeing senses. To the love. To you!