I miss the poetry of it all
not just reading it, of course that too,
but feeling it, the romance of a paper cut from the opening of a bottle of red wine called "california dreams"
showering and the light switch turning off, a thoughtful gesture, sending waves of comfort and oblivion
watching hands conducting folk songs  in the front seat
laying on roof tops, recreating ideas from Tar Beach
I'm yearning for that youthful prose I used to write about all the time
feels like ages ago