say it, say it again

Just when I'm geting ready to leave the city, the times get good. Like I said to Leah the other night, this is perfect ... just perfect. From Friday night's gig to tonight's jukebox mayhem. Because the point is, it works. Plug it into any equation and it will work. This one's for you.

miles of windless summer

So here. My brother and I walk into the bar in our hometown and make do with what we have. So there. There are opportunities and endless examples of empty symbolism, but we're going to take it easy for a while. I'm going to forget about the city for a while and go the opposite direction. Everyone talks about the opposite, but they seldom mention the apposite. That's why we're still going to war with the things we don't understand.

someone carving their devotion in the heart-shaped pool

Because five years ago is still relatively recent to me. That's when I know I'm getting old, but I still feel young. Every room in the house has that new-clothes smell. Because seven autumns ago I was wandering around college pining after someone I didn't yet know. All my best friends were strangers. Fast forward, and I'm standing in a different place, missing the same people.

transfixed by the inner sound of your promise to be found

I didn't mind all that wasted Saturday time. That's what Saturdays are for: late hungover breakfasts and shopping mall shenanigans. I may have groused at the time, but it never matters in the long run. Maybe I write these things for the sake of friends I've neglected. Who knows. Maybe in my sleep I communicate with people I can no longer reach when awake. Maybe I'm being a bit overwrought. Maybe I'm always being a lot overwrought.

a spray of stars hit the screen as the tenth impact shimmered

And last night I fell asleep in a different bed in the same spot in the same room where I fell asleep at age fifteen, worried about the next day of ninth grade, and I am still at the point where it seems criminal that anything should ever remain the same while so much else changes, for example the paint on my childhood ceiling and the sound that the bedroom door makes when it closes, the same muffled perclachunk in the night that would nevertheless wake up my father, a light sleeper, and cause him to rage about it the next morning while I scrambled to eat my breakfast between swim practice and school.

say it, say it again

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