I’m alone here, and though I want you to come with me, I’m alone. The smoke pours out of my cigarette as headlights from night’s travelers pass by. The crickets are playing in the distance, and though they only know one note, it is a beautiful one. From up here I feel safe. It makes me wonder how my thoughts would be different if I were at street level, close enough to the ground to hear it breath. I am safe up here, yes, I am safe. The wet lavender blows through my window in orchestrated breaths. It’s scent, newborn from an evening shower. If only water would bring that innocence back to me. If only. Sleep.
“It took me years to understand that words are often as important as experience, because words make experience last”
—Willie Morris
(via npr)
Refer to life as “The Contest”
Children are skipping school today, and fathers call in sick.
We fill up with cracker jacks and cold six packs and the players add a column to their backs
We don’t think about the curse or how much the fall has hurt because, today we are in first place
father and son sit side by side finally with something to say winter is gone, it had been to long alas, tis opening day