Yes I should write a yes I should write a, we should shine a, I mean I should start a, we should make a FORT and eat these bananas before you-know-what!
We will sit in our undies having macaroons and argue about a lyric in a song that no one ever liked anyway. I will live on the moon live off the grid live off the fat of the live off the land live on peanuts live from New York it’s not Saturday night.
Still I ride.
I am always in motion, I am houses in motion, but sometimes I do it electronically and then it’s emotion. Bad joke. Poor form.
Definitely out of practice putting words into lyrical arrangements. These sands are staying the same and I am pretend-stoic, pretend-to-forget. Pretend-me-not. Remember what? I have reminded myself to forget to remember which is as good as forgetting for real. For real for real.
I do however remember circulations and cakes delivered all over the city and a lot of hills and grumbling. Much much better off, the way things are. At least, one of us is. That much can comfort me, coldly. Textures, scents, sounds forgotten. Only watery eyes and a missed opportunity. Oh so many of those, eyes, eyes, EYES! I would run out of fingers and toes if I tried to count. I’d have to go to Wendy’s for more finger chili. Better than five-alarm.
I am not feeling the poesy I am feeling poorly and in need of a large glass of sparkling water with a lemon slice. I watched the hands on the clock play an intricate game of hopscotch and missed my opportunity to fetch some sparkle-water from the neighborhood co-op. Damn, missing opportunities all over the place here. Eyes and opportunities.
Yours or mine? Ours? Something has been lost, I have missed something. Something has gone missing, I have lost something. It is long long lost it is long long past. Oh so long ago lost it’s as good as gone, it’s oolong lost. We should have a we should get a we should catch up we should meet for we should we won’t I won’t ask. I won’t ask him to do something he clearly doesn’t have room for in his a) life b) schedule c) I’m making uneducated assumptions I don’t care d) June 25. Forget everything between now and then and everything will be fine. Just stay up all night like the song whose lyrics we have forgotten so we make them up. “My nose was trying to reach you at your brother’s.” Like that, exactly.
I couldn’t reach you if I tried. The sand is stone, the world just stones, see? Listen. You can hear the sighs and someone says “soon” off in the desert with only laughter and the night and a lifetime of little disappointments, if you allow. A lot of regrettable irrevocables.
A lot of words and stones and bones and dead batteries. That’s what. But what. What can I do? I can has agency. I can and I sit up, I read the book rip the pages oops and I stop buying bananas. They always rot. They ALWAYS seem like a good idea, and then I go for it and then they rot.
Clearly, I’ve been hanging out on the D end of the Creation/Destruction continuum. But count me in for dioramas, singing lessons, bike camping and some incredibly nerdy plans I just hatched.