I looked at you for too long, I think. I saw his eyes change color, your smile corner appears, - the dimples I blink softly. I've always liked your dimples, boy, are beautiful, your lips red as well, even your nose cloudy. I always liked your long fingers, thicker than mine, but that fit in a grotesque amid the folds of my brown hand. Tea or coffee? You like no, come on, come on, you fill a glass of rum. Colorize the black sky and white clouds since they're the beginning of the week. With his dimples, boy, and that your hair color dirty, I will give you a shot of serpentine. Come on, come on, you and I are the retina of the eye. No that makes sense - I never did any. I like the mess, you organization's brief taste of love, thou of immortalization. I saw long ago, you noticed and trimmings. I do not know what reason they have, but like you, not like the train track.