I was a different person then, and so the expectation that I should write the same,work the same, be the same, is silly. Within the same breath, I am still me, Perhaps just moreStill. I sat up late with the spirits,Welcomed the long night at 3:02 am my time.We were quiet together, I think they save the most raucous storiesFor when I sleep. Because that’s the timeI don’t stop myself from feeling everythingAnd anything really is possible. The trees outside…
