Woke up with fingers crossed in a boy's bed with your pants off. After polite declines of coffee and toast, walked home itching in last night's clothes. Past the phone booth and the beauty bar, the broken windows of your neighbors' cars. Through the backdoor to a message from Sis asking, "Who was your New Year's kiss?" Took the afternoon to piece it all, plus a half a dozen phone calls. Crashed a party with Larissa and Chris in pursuit of a New Year's kiss. Not the way that you imagined it, (on a balcony with champagne lips) but in a pantry against the pancake mix. You had your New Year's kiss.
The yolks go to waste.
North Pacific Ocean.
Epic shows (but not in the U.S.)
A Promise Made (the record not the band)
The Musher (fruition)
Collaborations (maybe you'll like me more then)