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{stuck, with my old school ways} timothy gager got green in my pocket not plastic--nor have i ever bought a cell to make calls like this with poles and wires endless from where i stand to you i’ve driven miles in dust to find this pay phone to whisper in your ear i love you baby and how are the kids on the side of the road, my loneliness is this booth where i hear you smile and i picture the way your hips thrust forward, every time you laugh… this surge of you bursts, hits me like the heat in Arizona, at ten AM |
