your love is teaching me how to

my forearms heat up first.

you'd think that maybe my face, or my nose, or the tops of my feet. but no, today, as i ventured outside in the hot spring sun, the world a jumble of exposed skin, bright colours, short skirts, wide sunglassess, and ice cream cones, it was my forearms that recognized that yes, the sun is pouring down and the sky is so blue that your eyes will hurt of you look at it for any length of time.

in my wanderings, i found an iron from the the early sixties. it was in its original box and cost me all of two dollars. the lady sellng it - her irish accent making her words more like a song than anything else - only wanted to charge me a dollar, but i insisted on the two.

tonight is the fourth year humanities party.

my debauchery senses are tingling.