Only one Thought at a Time

In College at the commune, at the Big Yellow House, we were too poor to have a car. We were too poor to have a car so we walked to the co-op and bought our fine tuned groceries for meals of ornament and grace.
The bags in our hands started to melt in the soft rain that falls in Autumn in far Northwest. The bags started to melt and we both began to laugh at our wet selves in the rain. We both began to laugh and I never forgot your wet haired smile, long after you had forgotten me.