The good ole days. I am not old enough to use the term per se..but nostalgia doesn’t really care for age, does it? And when i hear your voice, i can’t help but go back in time. Look at me trip over my past. Wipe the look of disgust off your monkey face numbskull, it happens to the best of us. Judge me when you are perfect. Well, i read the phrase somewhere and i’ve been aching to use it.
Then your face comes to mind. And the movies. And the coffee. Always black. Six sugars. And the novels. And poems. It started with the poems. It ended with them too. Then we didn’t talk. Just miscommunicated our intentions in well-crafted poems that really had no truth. Others were true. The ones that held no meaning drove us apart. That’s what happens when tornadoes and hurricanes try to have a…
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