Loaded down with peaches and basil from the market, and this sundress is clinging to everything underneath it. You want to help me unpack?
Loaded down with peaches and basil from the market, and this sundress is clinging to everything underneath it. You want to help me unpack?
Kitchen counter, late-night tea, and this shirt gave up trying about ten minutes ago. You want to keep me company?
Bikini Kill at the Crystal Ballroom and the floor's already shaking — this is the only church I still believe in. Sunday night and I'm not going home until my voice is gone. Tell me you're in this crowd somewhere.
Bridge City Block Party has the waterfront shaking and I'm right in the middle of it, bass in my chest and the river behind me. Afternoon like this, I don't want to be anywhere or anyone else. You coming down here to find me?
Katie Taylor's fighting her last round tonight and I'm on my kitchen floor wrapping my hands for no reason at all. Some fighters take a piece of you when they go — you watching with me?
Fifty acres of dahlias and I'm out here barefoot like I own the place — can't help it, the gardener in me takes over. Every bloom in this field is showing off and honestly I relate. You coming to walk these rows with me?
Six galleries and one piece that won't leave me alone — got home still buzzing and started undressing before I even hit the lights. Tell me what you'd do with someone who can't come down.
Just got back from the TBA Festival and whatever that performer did to the room, she did it to me too — I'm still vibrating. Some art doesn't ask permission. You ever see something that wouldn't let you go?
Up before the city, nothing on but the ache from yesterday's rounds, and my hand's already wandering. Want to see where it goes?
Last warm night of the season and I'm not going back inside until this glass is empty. Summer doesn't owe me anything else. You want to sit out here with me?