Tuesday, September 4, 2007
when we were young
A dizzyland of the place where I grew up. Only in my dreams, like walks at night when the sky is somehow more vast and takes precedence. My neighborhood is a circle with paths & mysterious trails through the woods. I cherish the quiet, bugs whispering like a gentle choir.
Peter sneaks into the windows of the girls that he loves. I am too old to be a lost boy, but I am still lost. The land of night, of stars, is vast…things on the ground are small. Homes, trees…everything is close. But it might be a million a miles away. Like the girl next door. The flickering light of her TV screen. Why not walk out onto your roof. I can meet you there.