English Lanes.

I Stepped out

-the beaten wagon, to an old english lane. I have to admit that should have seemed dodgy, although we weren't partaking in anything 'soggy'.

He lead me down the english lanes, where the white collar suburbs turn to farmers plains. Jefferys walking his great dane fighting off heatstroke with diet soda and aspartame.

He showed me the fork in the english lanes. One path lead to sex and shame, the other to a wholesome loving destiny of which one chance to obtain.

This was it, the english lane. Wandering, boots strapped, Highlands taped. Lay on the grass as he's on top of me, making out of sight of the English lane.