drunken sunday morning

only a little gin left.

used to know a girl, hot little one. can't remember her name, but remember those blond curls.

ginny. how could i forget. wasn't her tonic at first. then, she wanted me.

used to like her in part because she kissed joey lawrence.

we never made out. incidental touching.

god, such a wimp.

then there was the twelve year old. maybe 13. but i was 16. felt like i was taking advantage. she had faith in me i never had before.

to list loves is an exercise in futility.

so many times, heart broken. wandering the streets.

less so now. but more lately.

if only... the words of a