Richard Brautigan

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

We Stopped At Perfect Days - Poem by Richard Brautigan

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--


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Read poems about / on: car, hair, wind



Poem Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003



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