…And I appreciate that winter

long pointless drives, late at night
talk of better lives, light and physics.
My favorite friend always seemed to see
the particles like I did
and we hoped their patterns wouldn’t change.
I hoped that sobriety would last.

And I appreciate that winter
maybe for its lack of gray
colder air blew clear and crisp between
bars of light, far beneath a pristine sky.
Daytime drives with my dad and
talk of school plans, and John Prine’s guitar.
I hoped my playing would impress him.

And I appreciate that winter
in a final sort of way.
Elliott Smith kept time for me
those days I liked staring at the ceiling
watching shadows and the fan
vaguely spin and move my things around.
I hoped their images would not fade.

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