Monday, November 3, 2014

brooklyn, ny

everyone has a song, or two
a song you drive to
a song that makes you

my summer song was the same as a million others'
my night song was cliche

but you were listening to Sam Cooke
dark eyes focused on my shady refuge
shoulders unapologetically leaning away from yours

a light changed
a smile, a wave
and Sam Cooke was gone

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