Wearing The Same Hat

All these tanks, thinking longer about less and less, it’s how we get to our shows. Then it’s harder and it’s the way out, you live it without being home. You don’t think it but I do, as I live in windows. We talk, we birds, tattered and loving, but each day fries us with too many choices. I get my hand up and the days glance at it, measuring everything down. Even lights stop, briefly, the faster things get. This is a moment out of my life that no one will know completely, despite how I record it. Memory is merely a cut and paste job, but swampy. It’s good to be between the faraway and the close, even if it’s only possible. Down the line we’ll use honesty to make things, mistakes, and crack the glowsticks. I know we can if we shout softly to each other, in gracing breaths.