Over a year ago, my friend Lisa gave me a pair of seashells she found in California, hoping that I would fashion them into some kind of accessory. Well, it's her birthday today, so here we go:
Lisa, I hope you don't mind, I couldn't help but add a little sparkle.
Lisa, I've known you since I was twelve. Together we went to Massey Hall to see Morrissey; we hopped on a bus to Hamilton to see the Verve; we hopped on a bus to Hamilton (again) to see Morrissey (again); we waited in the Warehouse parking lot all day so we could see the Violent Femmes; we smoked a joint in Kings College Circle as casually as if we were eating ice cream cones before going to see Patti Smith (and you left your seat, which was so much closer to the stage than mine, to stand next to me for the encore); we stayed out all night and fell asleep beneath glowing bank towers and bronze cows. Do you remember all that? Because I sure do. Happy birthday.
Lisa, I hope you don't mind, I couldn't help but add a little sparkle.
Lisa, I've known you since I was twelve. Together we went to Massey Hall to see Morrissey; we hopped on a bus to Hamilton to see the Verve; we hopped on a bus to Hamilton (again) to see Morrissey (again); we waited in the Warehouse parking lot all day so we could see the Violent Femmes; we smoked a joint in Kings College Circle as casually as if we were eating ice cream cones before going to see Patti Smith (and you left your seat, which was so much closer to the stage than mine, to stand next to me for the encore); we stayed out all night and fell asleep beneath glowing bank towers and bronze cows. Do you remember all that? Because I sure do. Happy birthday. 
1 comment:
she's gangsta, but she's sweet too!
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