Moving in April
I had forgotten the journey. So focused on what was to come and again after it, the magnitude of where we should end up. The fragrant warmth of the breeze surrounded me like an olfactory driven vision, it's scent was my youth, running the streets, day and night with no cares, absorbing the lives of strangers, smoking, sitting, laughing, wandering wild, covered in mud from the woods, tropical malt liquored kisses, rolling in woodchips under swingsets, down hills, in childrens baseball fields and basements on dirty couches, in stolen cars and jumping rope, being children and adults at the same moment, jumping fences, hopping from pools to muddy rivers, steps ahead of the police, owning the night. This is what I smell in the air from time to time and it shakes me to my core- who am I where am I going how did I get here why so much control, so much need for safety and falling in line with these rules, these people, soldiers of the mediocre home- they stand in unison, losing what fed them losing who they are, their passion what urged them to run rapid- now with the televisions and the meals, constantly eating, living in this world of babies and mortgages these lives we mocked that we knew we would never become. I remember who I was, what I lived for, what mattered most- just to have the stars in the sky and a place to sit, trains to jump and bridges to explore- where has that girl gone/ what have I done to her- these are the things that travel in the wind and I can go with them- I can follow it- I can finally for once listen to it and breathe it and say No to this mess and just be. That is what April means to me.
I had forgotten the journey. So focused on what was to come and again after it, the magnitude of where we should end up. The fragrant warmth of the breeze surrounded me like an olfactory driven vision, it's scent was my youth, running the streets, day and night with no cares, absorbing the lives of strangers, smoking, sitting, laughing, wandering wild, covered in mud from the woods, tropical malt liquored kisses, rolling in woodchips under swingsets, down hills, in childrens baseball fields and basements on dirty couches, in stolen cars and jumping rope, being children and adults at the same moment, jumping fences, hopping from pools to muddy rivers, steps ahead of the police, owning the night. This is what I smell in the air from time to time and it shakes me to my core- who am I where am I going how did I get here why so much control, so much need for safety and falling in line with these rules, these people, soldiers of the mediocre home- they stand in unison, losing what fed them losing who they are, their passion what urged them to run rapid- now with the televisions and the meals, constantly eating, living in this world of babies and mortgages these lives we mocked that we knew we would never become. I remember who I was, what I lived for, what mattered most- just to have the stars in the sky and a place to sit, trains to jump and bridges to explore- where has that girl gone/ what have I done to her- these are the things that travel in the wind and I can go with them- I can follow it- I can finally for once listen to it and breathe it and say No to this mess and just be. That is what April means to me.