I’m hit with sounds and smells of you Sitting behind a smoker on the transit And I’m strangely nostalgic I’ve grown to love it Because on you it’s mixed with pine Like you dozed off next to a fire pit
I realize you’re all around me Because in these parts short flannel clad men with tall egos are a dime a dozen
Though I know when I move away I’ll look back with yearning On those nights in your car (they meant more to me than you know) listening to Tame Impala and waiting for the bridge bass cranked high like the heat effervescent windows frosted from our craft brewed breaths singing and saturated with spirit(s)
Was this home or all I came to know?
I can’t deny that summer will never again be as heavy with happiness as when the sky has stopped her crying long enough to paint in pastels canopied air crisp enough to bite I guess that’s what happens when you spend 2/3 of the year in grey