and the roses are grown
M & Ms are yellow."
--Lupe Fiasco
You are a bird on a rim. You have alit on an island and you are changing. You wade along the shore or flit in the cloud forest. It might seem that you've arrived but in fact you are still approaching. Like the light of a star. Like a verse spit years ago which you're hearing for the first time in a season surrounded by rain and snapped with chill.
You remember a summer swollen like a bud, the swarm streets, pointy shoes, a babbling brook (i.e. your own voice), the man who was into things, the boy who tried not to tell, the woman who was just a peasant in the kingdom, McGillycuddy who said the place made life go too fast, the girl who left first -
Are you going to finish that sentence, he said.
You always think you'll never meet another, and then you do.
Posts
