Me an Kris would drive around in his car listening to Some Girls because with Jeff it was always just the Beatles or Elton John, Maybe, or something odd like Johnny Horton ro The Stadler Brothers. With Maurice and Marvin it was likely to be The Fantasticks, or West Side Story. But with Kris I could get into the Cars or Police or Rolling Stones. He just rolled in the seat getting into Just What I needed. It was always raining, always March that wouldn’t turn into summer, with the snow frozen in ledges over the gutters, brown snow, caving in as you tromped on it, and Kris could drive a year before me.
And the next week I got a prayer/ for the girl/
well you know what kind of eyes she got.
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