Cold Snow Cones For A Luke Warm Day

did you think those fireworks were impressive? silence. oh, i forgot you're all a million miles away. tonight, july fourth, is preparing for everything i've never had to expect, and on this lonely riverstreet, beautiful drunken girls breathe down my neck. it left me wondering about those watching back on the old susquehanna, and along those kerouac cliffs lies seventeen years and a history of laughter. but breakfast along my new river the next day was refreshingly nostalgic, a quaint diner, with modest food, but delicious accounds of it's magic. on the table, lied an old journal, and listen compliments from around the world, and deep within was a written diary of a lifetime of come-and-go travelers. i quietly signed the small book, a page after some child's scribbling, not so much a greatful signature, but one that another might someday read. i wrote down my entire life and explained how i ended up in town, and when i finished my story i realized that only the beginning was written down.