she don't sleep to dream

working hard...

or hardly working?

on my mind: the persistence of memory.

i walk home through this thick sticky wind. it is warm and breezy enough to remind my nose, my skin, and my hair of something... is it the beach? with a deep inhale, i can feel the time that i traveled to san francisco in late april in the air of my breath, it is so close. it is sitting just behind the membranes of my eyes, it is nearly touching today.

the clouds have been gathering with wispy moisture all day long, same as the little beads of sweat along my hairline. the hills i trudge are slight, but i am aggravated by them. there is strain in my thighs, and i'm wearing one too many layers.

a song that i love pours into my ears and it fills my chest so fast. suddenly incensed, my legs pump faster with this familiar brand of defiance. my eyes are flashing, and my teeth are grinding. parts of me have been taken to the first time i heard this song, when i found the truth in its wretched beauty.