Letters to New Yorkers | g.c.o.t.p.i.w.c.s.i.m.h.t.t.s.s.

g.c.o.t.p.i.w.c.s.i.m.h.t.t.s.s.

Dear Guy Checking Out the Peach I Was Carrying Safely in my Hands Through the Subway Station,

Just fyi, the song I was singing in my head when I made eye contact with you was:

“Don’t want m’peach to get squishysquishy squish squishysquishy.”

I hope you sensed what was behind my cold neutral I’m-on-the-Subway Face,
Cirocco

Tagged: trains dates

Posted on September 23, 2011 with 12 notes
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