It’s 1:49 in my neck of the woods.
Time to head home….
There is a robin singing in a tree somewhere, telling the world he is looking for a mate. A robin sings in a tree somewhere, telling the world he has found a mate. The tree somewhere is a tulip in the neighbor's front yard. Spring has come. We drive by the same people, sleeping in bags on the sidewalk, waiting for the world to warm. (Been a little minute since I wrote one of these...)
I see you there on the other side of forty-seven, waiting for me like a father, like a child, looking up, looking back, waiting for me to catch up, to start making sense of what I see. Well, stop. I won’t do it. I can’t do it. This is why I do what I do and you know it. So stop. Stop waiting. Stop wasting both of our times. I’ll get there when I get there or maybe I won’t. You’ll just have to wait and see or wait and not see. It’s all the same to me. I don’t care anymore. I will do what I do.