a windy day; the petals flew from my hands down to the street; i tried to catch them with my feet...

she once had these lyrics posted on her bulletin board, in her room, along with the photocopied "the female of the species" that joe handed her, and, i think maybe, a picture of gloria steinem wearing zany eyeglasses. and fashion spreads, and friends closer to her, all the way from ukraine.

this might have all been before ever hearing a hayden song; i forget.

we don't mind
hayden desser

it was a Tuesday morning, November
i slept at your house the night before
we couldn't wait to get up to go for
a big breakfast in an old fashioned diner
a full meal, six coffee refills later
we both have to be at work in an hour
let's call in sick, i suggest to her
i'll call your boss and tell her that you're under
the weather you'll call mine you will tell her
that i'm very sick and that you're my mother

so we walk down the street
looking for a phone booth we
rehearse what we're going to say
so that we can have this day...away

we find a phone booth with room for two
i call your boss and i don't speak the truth
they're pretty mad about you but they'll get through
you call my work in my mother's voice they believe you
and it starts to rain outside
In our phone booth we hide
it doesn't let up until five
squished together we don't mind
we don't mind

ps. i have rob to thank for turning me into a fan of hurl, all the miserable times, and yes, ghetto rainbow. :D humdeedum.