the four right chords can make me cry

on my way.

perched precariously on the railing of the bus stop, i closed my eyes in the bright sunlight of a day ebbing away. i still see, the insides of my eyelids, are red, under the intensity of the light. the heat streaks across my forehead, and eyes closed, i turn my freckles to face it. when i look down, i can almost swear that the shadows are shifting as time moves slowly quickly by.

later on, bubbles. they drift, swirls and eddies, their oily rainbows gracing the atmosphere. two small children laugh and chase and scream and i can't help but smile.

remember when we were young? if any place was worth going to, it was worth running there. if anything was worth doing, it worth was screaming while doing it. when did i stop doing that? where have you gone since those days? when did censure overtake us? and what does it mean to leave this all behind?

they are still playing soccer, just as i had left them. i keep my eyes to the ground as i walk past, headed home or who knows where.

posted by beckyboo @ 7:18 PM