shepard fairey



ras

ras

ras


ras

ras

ras

ras

gustav dore

our boys

death and burial

wm

Monday, May 31, 2010

Next


I took down her silver locket. I took down
her crew with one look. I took down her number.
See ya, sweets, I called to her as she disappeared

out of the Steak and into Carl Nelson’s ’63 Sattelite;
the roar of its straight pipes gunned the night
right down in its tracks.


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