My memory lane is cracked and uneven. Just yesterday I walked through my old home. Familiar yet unfamiliar. I wonder if her someone new notices all the small reminders of the old me. And now, today, the song the radio is a time machine. Where she is in the living room wondering who I am now and why …
love or something like it
I want you to notice me—not the way people do in passing,with a smile,a nod,my name spoken lightlyas you move on. I mean really notice me. Because when you see me nowyou only see the version of methat trips over his own words. In my head they arrive polished—clever, effortless, cool. But somewhere between thoughtand …
Dixie's Road Trip 