I don’t care if this one is bound for glory
I like the way it let’s me cut the earth
I bet the earth here is dark
Like almost black
I bet it hordes rain in moonshine mugs
I bet it sings country and things grow in a rhythm.
I like how I can sit and be a measuring stick
I like the way the radio wires keep things grounded
The way they stitch fields to this bit of dirt and that
The grain is a collection of antennas
There are aliens up in those skies
Listening to growth like a rock song.
It is loud.
It is a loud thing.
And I like your soft touch.
I think when God made the word soft he kissed a piece for you to grow out from.
I think this whole thing would be better with a little soft divinity right now
And then every now after
Or as many as I can steal
I’m clumsy but I’m learning
I’m this close to becoming a cat burglar of moments
(Like that closeness between the sun and my skin close).
I have strange feelings towards solitary stars and houses.
Why would anything choose to live so far away?
Don’t they know about traffic?
And city living?
And what do they do out here?
And what happens when they get sick? When they die even?
Do they get internet out in nowhere?
Or do they use radio waves like my heroes used to?
I got a lot of free time here
And questions make it all dance a little faster I know most of the answers by name but I couldn’t pick them out of a crowd
Not unless they held big signs or
If, in my experience, is nothing but a soft ‘when‘
If they invent teleportation
I’d never use it
I guess I’m too superstitious
I’d rather wear a cross than dissolve to
There is a certain kind of magic to weight
I like effort
It makes beautiful things
Some days I don’t know whether I’m getting bigger
Or this world is getting smaller
I know there is a difference and it is important somehow
This world is still too big most days
But everything grows and is music and swells like music
And it is changing
There are people left behind
I know this much
One day I will be another one
This day doesn’t feel close
But far away can feel touch close
So why can’t the opposite be true?
The man who calls out where we are
Never once says home
His electricity buzzes long after
I am gone.