Michael Munas (michaelboy) wrote,
Michael Munas

Nineteen seventy-something or another

Even though you may have never been, I'd spend hours trying to imagine you into life -- or at least,
enough so that I could feel the softness in your shoulders.

Real men pour over 401k's, deer hunts, and fantasy-football picks; but those scores, like cuneiform, have never meant anything to me.

This is the scent that I cannot describe which forever marks me.
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