With my feet firmly planted on the ground it’s hard to see over the clouds. And that’s where my mind is. Rolling around watching Judah do a kegstand in slow motion. Watching my memories in reverse and trying to piece it all together. Shit. Did it really all happen this fast? I fly over living rooms and fields full of dogwood flowers and secret rendezvous. I hold tight to my heart confused and hoping not to forget the things that made me  who I am now incase I start to change and want to turn back. A paramour to nobody, but a lover nonetheless. It’s a hard contrast from who I was while I was becoming who I am now. When I was south I used to say “I wish I was, where I was, when I was wishing I was here” words spray painted on a wall in the city of angeles. Those words burned onto the insides of my eyelids. I don’t know now if I wish anything. I wonder. I don’t wish. In the 8^th window seat on the right side of a greyhound bus… I always want to sit on the right window or the inside seat of the booth. These quirks that I’ve established and polished like fine silver, define me more then anything else. What If I forget? What if I become overwhelmed while changing next time? Or is this it I wonder. A wandering wonderer. It’s not a bad way to be, having your mind spread thin over a universe of  surprise and desire. Tic tack toeing its way in and out of the craters other minds created before it. so familiar isn’t it? when I think of déjà vu I think of dreams I had when I was little about floating in the purple sky with the stars over a red and orange desert.