this morning he le...

this morning he left the building where people toil and sweat over a variety of social rulers. there are mirrors everywhere, and desks with grid coordinates to record letters using a no.2 pencil. the building is multi-storied and windowless. when people mention scent he suffocates at the thought of the recycled air there. thousands of tulip bulbs are donated every year by the dutch government to commemorate the allied troops that liberated them during the war. most are planted around the government buildings and at the national park across the river. on campus, he can see them sprout for spring, and he cannot recall where the snow has gone. tomorrow morning i'll write another exam in a room where i took a classics course. during which i'll hope for a pleasant afternoon of writing postcards. i'll seek refuge under a statue erected in 1903 or a willow tree near the egyptian embassy. little messages that tell half stories and half nightmares with generic stamps. the tulips will be at my feet wherever i go tomorrow. and winter will be frozen in my pen.

you k...

you know, man, when i was a young man in high schoolyou believe in or not i wanted to play football for the coachand all those older guysthey said he was mean and cruel, but you knowwanted to play football for the coachthey said i was to little too light weight to play line-backerso i say i’m playing right-endwanted to play football for the coach’cause, you know some day, manyou gotta stand up straight unless you’re gonna fallthen you’re gone to dieand the straightest dudei ever knew was standing right for me all the timeso i had to play football for the coachand i wanted to play football for the coachwhen you’re all alone and lonelyin your midnight hourand you find that your soulit’s been up for saleand you begin to think ’boutall the things that you’ve doneand you begin to hatejust ’bout everythingbut remember the princess who lived on the hillwho loved you even though she knew you was wrongand right now she just might come shining throughand the -- glory of love, glory of loveglory of love, just might come throughand all your two-bit friendshave gone and ripped you offthey’re talking behind your back saying, manyou’re never going to be no human beingand you start thinking again’bout all those things that you’ve doneand who it was and what it wasand all the different things you made every different sceneahhh, but remember that the city is a funny placesomething like a circus or a sewerand just remember different people have peculiar tastesand the -- glory of love, the glory of lovethe glory of love, might see you throughyeah, but now, nowglory of love, the glory of lovethe glory of love, might see you throughglory of love, ah, huh, huh, the glory of loveglory of love, glory of loveglory of love, now, glory of love, nowglory of love, now, now, now, glory of loveglory of love, give it to me now, glory of love see you throughoh, my coney island baby, now(i’m a coney island baby, now)i’d like to send this one out for lou and racheland all the kids and p.s. 192coney island babyman, i’d swear, i’d give the whole thing up for youlyrics from lou reed's coney island babyi can hear the thunder outside. i can't see the lightning. it might rain forever they say.