a timeless zone of inertia
. The damp morning air smells of something from the past that resides behind my sternum. I have to drag myself out of bed.
. Bike helmet hair season.
. Less than a month till I see her face and we dance with the Marfa lights. And she tells me that she has a show booked, just in time.
. Violin hickies.
. Girl hangs with a spotty thing.
. A voice on a megaphone tells us it’s time to leave. We run back to the car and miss the sunset.
. Going after lost things was as uncertain as prayer. ~ Divisadero