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| Extra Virgin |
8/21/2002
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An olive, a hole.
An entire row of thoughts stretching on in my mind concerns me.
Just to the point of being slightly bothered by everything.
Was it too late?
To go back.
Was it for the better?
To move forward.
Learning from past experiences.
Series upon series defines me in the least appropriate way!
My mind is my approval, my rating is my audience.
Is my television screen turned on?
My friendship is my Love, but is my love my Friendship?
A black olive!
A whole black olive!
A hole!
An olive!
A live space!
To rent, to rant, to rave.
A black olive, my Friend, not my Enemy.
But what about the thing called Love?
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