honeydunce

The saying goes: time owes you nothing. Doesn’t need to teach, doesn’t need to lean on explanation or reasons for the brief,
the length–the increments ticking yet constantly abandoned. Too busy living. Too loud, too fast, too focused. Rain in the
wires, voices reduced to pin drops in static. I believe it. I’m not owed anything. But sometimes time flips up the hem of its
distance, and you see it and it’s okay. Even makes sense, might even make it better. You trace the line, a little amused
with dragging it through everywhere you’ve been. From there to there to here, eventually. Shift one thing and you move a
world.