Saturday, March 31, 2018

High Hopes, Low Tide

You can buy anything but time. Oh, I suppose that love is not really available on the open market, either. Seems to me that love is slippery. My pal, Harry, makes fun of me for taking good care of my stuff. He claims that my shoes look better after twenty years than his do after a month. I've never been able to take care of love.

I tell myself and anybody who will listen that I don't want love. Pretty sure they know I'm lying and I suppose I do, too.

Nothing lasts forever.

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