I was buried in nostalgia today.
shrouded by the glimmering lights
walking along side you,
you said,
"Heyyy, this is not in your memory,
it is happening now,
all this is true!"

and I wished you would have picked different words;
cause you said the same ones
in my memory of you.

With a candle
we shuffle,
against
a Roman wind,
when it goes out,
we return to the fire
to start
to shuffle
again.

Like film
and candy tins,
old dull things
seem more
on purpose.