We Stopped at Perfect Days by Richard Brautigan

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	We Stopped at Perfect Days by Richard Brautigan
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#169
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Richard Brautigan

(January 30, 1935 – September 14, 1984 / Tacoma, Washington)

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We Stopped at Perfect Days

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We stopped at perfect days
and got out of the car.
The wind glanced at her hair.
It was as simple as that.
I turned to say something--

Richard Brautigan

Submitted Date

Monday, January 13, 2003

Read poems about / on: car, hair, wind

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