festival of film

we pushed through that door and up four flights of stairs to art kids, biker hats, and an open bar. eager wandering eyes and everyone gleefully rubbing shoulders as they pass. that tattoo looks stitched on! my girlfriend gets jealous when i dance with boys. look, there's that moustache, and look, there's yr double. if we spike our beer with whiskey it hits our thirsty tongues a little sweeter. (if we water down our whiskey with beer it goes down a little smoother.)

i'll just stand around grabbing beards and taking names, rubbing bellies while we all compare in a circle. did you think i was drunk when i stuck my head through a plant to ask where you were headed? how about when i toppled over in the street, feet still clipped into my pedals, sideways and straight down onto the pavement in the rain?

it's only my second day on these things, you know. (my second night at this place, too, echoes of almost a year ago, but it's looking to shape up about like the last, all giddy toes and dancing hips and new faces to walk me out.)

it's nice to meet neighbors so you never have to find yr own way home.