Sediment filled with sentiment.
The earth flies around the sun.
Heartfelt messages lost in the margins of long lost passages.
One year under the bridge and a decade in passing. Sound the bagpipes and summon the spirits to carry off the coffin. Blaze a trail through the floodplain and never question the direction because it all just only ever ends in a paycheck and where we’re at in this climate we need all the checks we can get. Checks and boxes and extra big garages for our trucks and our toys and our imported domestic sedans. We are here in this transition and we are lost trying to find ourselves. We scurry up the scree and we try our best not to lose our footing and somehow we find ourselves above the tree line and we wonder how we will ever go back to the base where the freeloaders and hippies and the goddamn marching ants line up like sheep to get shorn. We wonder this and we wonder how it will ever get better. We wonder and we wonder and we wonder. We wonder and we wander and we wade into the murky water and we hope against our own hope that somewhere in the cloudy mess we’ll find the source of this spring and we’ll find the water that will fill us up and provide us with the sustenance we need to make it through another day and another week and another month and another year and another decade. We think about all of this while we’re standing in line to buy beer for the party we’re not going to make it to because we’re drunk again and the lights are still on and the dog puked on the bed again. We think about this until we forget again in the morning and we wake up and we go to work and we fall in line and we do as we’re told because it’s New Year’s and as soon as we can get to tomorrow we can start exercising our best judgement again for another week before the pattern begins again.