The American Mustache Institute ( a collection of thoughts)

Salt stained cement.

Take the last drag off your cigarette.

Ripped tights and a gold wristwatch that always tells me its 9 O'clock.

Meet me in the city.

Bring your collection of 60s garage rock.

I want to dance and drink whiskey. 

I'll wear the dress I stole and you wear that shirt with the pearl snap buttons.

When the night is over and the whiskey is gone I'll pour you a cup of tea from my new $3 teapot. 

We can dispute over who is a better songwriter; Lou Reed or John Cale

and then agree to disagree.

But determine that  The Velvet Underground was the first band we heard when we were 14 that really got us into Rock and Roll and that's all that really matters.

I'm going to show you 10,000 square feet filled with treasure hidden in a strip mall next to Toys R' Us. 

Big black boots and a giant blue coat. It's cold in Chicago. It's almost February, the worst month of the year. Its also the shortest but it takes forever to pass. Not just because Valentines day is approaching and those who love become consumer driven and those who are alone feel even shittier. But because we're so close to spring or what's supposed to be spring and it's still bitter cold and you just want to wear a light jacket and watch the trees turn green again. 

I remember the first day of spring last year. It was warm enough to wear my favorite purple dress and a light sweater. He told me I looked pretty. We went to the old camera store on Wabash and he got film or something. We walked under the el tracks and he took pictures of the construction on the side of the road, while I jumped in puddles of melted snow in my cowboy boots. He told me that he'd rather photograph the ugliness of mens industry than the beauty of nature or something along those lines. I like that about him.  We took the train farther north than I had ever been to meet his friend. ( Who I ended up moving in with a short 3 months later.) We ate at a restaurant in Little Vietnam. I got one of those bubble teas with the tapioca. I really like the tapioca more than the drink itself. We decided it would be a good idea to walk through the graveyard as a short cut. I smoked reds and you had those really good french cigarettes. The Merci Blondes. We took particular interest in reading the tombstones and talked about the weather for awhile before realizing it was past 5 pm and the graveyard had been closed. I would have hopped the fence any other day, but today I was wearing a dress.  We finally made it to his friends apartment, smoked out of his grim reefer bong and I stared at the anthrax tapestry hanging on the wall, which is now hanging in my living room. After we left and got back on the train you told me all about Atlanta and how much I would love it and how I had to go visit with you sometime. Which I did go and I did love it and it was exactly how you'd explained it last march, absolutely beautiful. I told him how I wanted to leave Chicago after the semester but he ended up leaving me first.