I See a Darkness

We are worn out and wondering why. I love you in the movie with the big blue African sky.

Oh, the little we love and can do. Unfortunately that music doesn't sustain a two hour spurt. You can't keep rhythm on the screen, you describe your day, like an insect colony production schedule determined to shovel as much dirt into the readers' eyes to make them grit and wince.

There is something you oughta know about the grocer down the block, where people in a hurry get 1L milk for $4.59: He has a room full of heat lamps in the back where his kids teach Vietnamese to strange truckers who have a thing for small-waisted cashiers.

You have to lay it all out there and hope, knowing of course that someone suddenly can't stand your guts and everything you keep bubbles up in the way you post photos, leave witty comments and even by the speed you answer your phone. I can't believe I haven't sat you down in years and told you all about those songs that brought me tears. I think there must have been a hundred.

That way that you were, I remember  it well, I think you are the same in my mind as the day at the airport, I have always just wanted to be near, to stay and not leave. I say prayers in the morning when you go to work and when I turn my first thought is 'did she drink her coffee'.

Oh great people I see you on the street, I see you on the sidewalk, my soundtrack in the car; you are a necessary part of the scenery, each wading through your tiny dreams, your big lungs and loud wails your pissing children your glorious christmas mornings when everything is even steven.

It's me, Andy, I haven't seen you in a while. Like he said you're going to wish you talked to me more when we were alive. I have the recording you made when we were kids, I remember I just laughed in the background; I think I remember everything you ever said. I don't know if it's a photographic memory but I'm certain it's a curse. You can't ever doubt my heart. I am still trying to start.