A $10 roll of quarters, cheap tall cans, and my love. Complex Laundry by the Complex Pool. Lines on my back from plastic lawn chairs, freckles on my shoulders-smell of sunscreen. A pink string bikini with little red strawberries. Your kisses taste like beer and menthol. There's a dryer sheet stuck to your Californian dream. I can see it so clearly through my ray-bans; how did this happen my love? It's the perfect day. ♥

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richzombie July 17, 2012 @ 12:50 p.m.

i enjoy writing about days and- a perfect day - love this poem!


jessica14 July 2, 2013 @ 9:01 a.m.

I feel sad that anyone can call themselves a poet or an artist now.


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