It cannot be counted
unless in hugs and smiles
sometimes I lose myself -
deeply-
in your eyes
It could never be measured
with a list of pros and cons
my love is for you, lover
it goes on
and on
and on. . .
- March 26, 1986, A.D.
In the '80's, I was a punk, a poet, a depressed romantic and an existential optimist. If I could have had a blog, this is what it would have been. I offer it as a conduit to yesterday. It's not all good, and you might not always like me, circa 1980's. But please be forgiving. I was only 12 when the decade began. YOU get to be the voyeur to a radical teen's not-so-radical journey, through love and pain and occasional Duran Duran references. You'll want to stick with it - it's infectious.
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