In my dream, at least two songs - previously unheard - indicated that I was "ready for Jesus." The clarity of associated loss on the other hand . . . It is possible to love others and yet not be physically present to them. She said she wouldn't "pull that" with me. And yet.
And yet some phone calls are not returned and a certain sorrow attains. I weep in old graveyards for the grief that accumulates there, like snow. Shadows cross the south side of the decrepit barn and a new writing project springs to mind. The mode is like kittens. One loves what they write and believes it is permanent.
Imagine a solution in which nobody loses and everybody gains. It is sweeter not to read the mail. Many divas, many bars, many lyrics. We climbed the pine tree almost to the top and thirty years later I still remember. One does in order to teach and thus learns.
Like that. Back roads at midnight and tumblers of whiskey. We stumbled into one another and stayed until a haze of affection made writing all but impossible. Clarity? When I see you something inside me lifts and what else is there to do but say it?
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