#82 (Audit)

Quiet now. And drink your tea. Observe. When the phone rings, Damian means it to surprise. The radio tells him, rain. "Endicott's evening BOCES classes cancelled." Roads on which we left, at once. My space, he says, is a little space, and laughs. The disconnected mountain range, abrupt. Music is duration, no?

A comedy of airs. There's green, there's blue, there is one sees a spattering of hues. Ask Sarah: is it class or coffee? Her fingers ivory bound. FBH-401. The white descent of stairs. Classical, classical poise. And sights in cold or rosey grey, the forth-floor windows bear. The champagne colored sky of winter. Soft sonata, chance. Or song, Vanessa Carlton, sing. Our laughter like a modern score? Or night, the vertical stripes of brown / off-white / and tan that cross the mattress. Image. David. Text. I am student still at bedtime.