A Change Will Come
A change will come soon, but I can't say what exactly
Radical mood-swing overdrive
An instant manifestion of nothing
Pirating of self
Trembling and rhythmic, mythic words
The screen glow will change hue
Reformatting of all drives, super-compressed
Over efficiency of all aspects of life, even those things that should not be efficient, analyzed or
A burning-down of the past, but archived
All bridges will be burnt
Friends betrayed, new ones made
And as usual, death and life
Nostalgia will never steer me wrong
That inclination to veer toward the nightstreets of St. Paul creeps back like it used to when I was a tad younger, but the reason for going has changed. Back then I never knew what the end goal was, but it had to include an appropriate compilation burned to disc. There is one particular song that must be played while rolling down that drag, where a segment of the city is visible at the end of a chasm of buildings and the streetlights cast a yellow light. If a gentle mist or rain touches your windshield, then you're there for sure.
Now that enough time has passed I would like to revisit and roll quietly down the pavement while cocooned in shiny black metal. A new and improved version of myself coming back, but with the same unsure and complacent core within.
Nostalgia will never steer me wrong.
Summer Burned Long
You entered stage left, and brought a bouquet to this impromptu play.
Summer burned desperate and long. The smell of smoke, hushed voices in the dark. Cricket chirps barely audible behind the soundtrack of mosquitos being swatted. There is a palpable danger in the air, and it's delicious.
Clandestine eateries, bars, patios inhabited by wonderful and tragic strangers. Smartphone-glow illuminates a magically ramshackle evening. River ripples. A bouncer's tattoo.
And like that, the quiet is smashed by the storms above, in my brain. The walls were shaking in time with the flashes outside the window.
Only the smoke detector and I know the truth.