time moves, but more slowly than memories fade. and time pegs itself in drop points that are easily called up, later. maybe when you watch a football game and a boy with starry brown eyes and a scarf tucked around his neck is singing with a voice made of angels' wings. maybe when you bite into a turkey and mustard sandwich and chew slowly.

they all disappear because i can't keep them near. quietly, they slip back into their oceans, their islands. you, too.

it's hard to explain, sitting next to this driver who sings along to the music without thinking. sounding like a dream, better than that. imagine going for a drive with ben, john, elliott, adam. guitar on the backseat, music and notes and lyrics scrawled on papers that scatter around corners at 55mph. rain on the window. road signs and vocal cords that create a map to anywhere but home.

i hated the leftover christmas lights, reminding me of reality, of solid earth, of the passage of time that screams by, with or without us.