LANDSLIDE

you are good people. i like you. i think that when we get together and talk it is very nice. i am very drunk, very stoned, very tired, very filled with life, very sentimental, very sensitive, very sleepy and waiting to dream and take off my socks and feel cotton all on my skin. it has been a good night and i enjoy all of your company. i enjoy playing music with you. helps me remember. remember that time is not real; that once we start a song it is over in a second. and that cigarettes in fifteen degree wind chills pushes me and gives me the will to be happy with the circumstances that i have been put in. because babies are fantastic creatures and we were all one of them back in the day. and working at 7-11 til early morning is not too bad after a night of growing up and being babies again. and waiting to hear about some important decision that will most definitely affect your life is not so bad after a night of laughs and smiles and visions of people you will toast at a wedding some day. and the waiting for all this to happen: for all the joys and pains of future times; for all the late nights with your child in a room with soft wave sounds and ducks on the wallpaper; for all the fantastic court cases we will argue, and all the awkward teenagers we will teach and change, all the peoples bodies we will delve into and fix and cure; for all the moments that we will inhale a crystal clear winter breath and feel at peace; for all those moments we wait and wait but when it comes it will be very happening, very happy, very much like the moment i am in right now, when i postpone warm blankets and comfy beds and breezes from a dust covered fan and the play of sleep, when i like to write instead of dream. you are good people. i miss you and wish you well and will talk to you, and see you, soon, under the black light, under another harvest moon.