Fantasy of the mid-morning
On the trunk of a car, stars overhead, sipping cool coffee drinks, caramel on the lips, a few constellations I don’t know the names of, a star shooting east by south.
Fantasy of the mid-morning
On the trunk of a car, stars overhead, sipping cool coffee drinks, caramel on the lips, a few constellations I don’t know the names of, a star shooting east by south.
