Oh the crushing weight of an exceptional memory!
There’s a detailed, unfailing transcript of every conversation waiting
And I know it’s annoying
But what happens in a house with the windows always open
And the water always flowing
And the candles always burning
And the porch light always broken?

And love is always looming but it’s tired of your attention
It feels like an excuse you use to rename old conventions
I made the flyer myself - it said “ALL ARE WELCOME”
But failed to mention that strict psychic dress code
Like, I remember standing out in front of the Northern
After another 15-paid gig
Getting harrassed by Olympia street punks (the worst!) for looking like a hipster
I wanted to be like “Man, I’m probably a couple years younger than your father
And I’ve traded in any chance at stability for this community of people who, like
Know what Black Flag is, or whatever. And look a little closer -
This outfit is amazing!
You think these pops of pastel play off of each other on accident?”
But no, I didn’t say any of that
It was just another moment crystallizing
Another open letter to forever

Like the fast food trash on the side of the road
The poorly timed reminder of home
The manic rush towards anything
That makes it harder for you to tell me who I am