honeydunce

So I’m on my way to work this morning, and a song comes on the ipod–a song I used to listen to eight years ago, on the radio while driving to Dayton. The song reminds me of poets in bars and the interstate at night. Everything hit me all at once. Then, now, the time in between it(as in the actual time…not in a metaphorical sense but in a minutes-hours-days-years sense). So much.

I must admit this: such a thing seemed to turn my vision back to wrong-side up, as if nothing no longer there to correct it. To feel so elated about growing up, yet so sad and humbled by the fact that it’s gone. To be simultaneously confused and thrilled by habits and lessons and what experience has colored the air with. It’s so strange to think: you cannot have it back even though it grows to be in everything. I’m not sure how to say it. All I know is that if I had not been sitting when that song hit my ears this morning, I would have fallen over, leaned against a building. Slid down a wall. Cracked my coffee cup on the hardwood below me. A feather could’ve flattened me.