Hawksley is there.
Of course Hawksley is there. He's showing up in that gleaming vintage Jaguar of his, the festive one. He's there smoking a clove on the porch in the cold with Dan, arm around the skinny musician, waxing philosophic about the turkey as a bird, as a potential symbol of the country, as a food, as an aesthetic principle. He's there letting Dee instruct him on how to make something as pedestrian as sweet potato pie, topped with marshmallows.
Eyes Kiara and her friends, the other one with the amp. Wonders about them, but there are people and things and he never really gets properly introduced. Or he does, after he's had the equivalent of half of four bottles of wine. Which means he might forget he ever met them.
Hell. Someone like Hawksley could be sober and forget he ever met them.
Of course Hawksley is there. He's showing up in that gleaming vintage Jaguar of his, the festive one. He's there smoking a clove on the porch in the cold with Dan, arm around the skinny musician, waxing philosophic about the turkey as a bird, as a potential symbol of the country, as a food, as an aesthetic principle. He's there letting Dee instruct him on how to make something as pedestrian as sweet potato pie, topped with marshmallows.
Eyes Kiara and her friends, the other one with the amp. Wonders about them, but there are people and things and he never really gets properly introduced. Or he does, after he's had the equivalent of half of four bottles of wine. Which means he might forget he ever met them.
Hell. Someone like Hawksley could be sober and forget he ever met them.
my whole life is thunder.