films about portland.

we spin legs on pedals till one breaks off, and then we limp a little further still. and to tell the truth we forget all about you till the phone rings, but that's not enough to shove you back to the front of this long line of regressors, list of tasks in hand, grinning like fools each time. and it's not enough to force a geography onto this humdrum pulse of mine, but it's enough to make me reconsider. poor broken piles of parts and gears on the living room floor. rainy wet streets and bridges and rivers and all those dresses i used to wear. yr doppelganger walked into my bakery today, fairy eyes and hobo hat and a spine that made me shiver. the stale scent of chain-smokers and the slow creep of yr smile. we are turning into ghosts and reflecting onto everyone but ourselves. i'm turning my back on all these whispers and working real hard for concrete projections instead.




sadie hawkins race: