|
The Jukebox And Outside There Is Rain
It has come to this again, hiding from the world in quiet bars on Tuesday afternoons. The world holds together only so long until you have to let it go let it fall and break into awkward little pieces strewn about your feet waiting to be swept away. Pink Floyd on the Jukebox and outside there is rain and you wonder how many times this cycle can repeat itself In a single lifetime. The bartender leans upon the bar and smiles asking for nothing more than you have to give she is real and true enough and the glass she puts in front of you still makes a kind of sense when nothing else does. |