Harry Lin
The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel.
The ride was so smooth, you must be a limousine.
Do not mistake composure for ease.
You get what you settle for.
"Deserves" got nothin' to do with it.
All those moments will be lost in time like tears in rain.
I live my life a quarter-mile at a time.
I can still taste you on my fingers and smell you on my breath.
You're the reason the opera's in me.
