out of body

For every twinge of inspiration hitting me at 4:00. Almost an ode to lost days wandered aimlessly. The bored ruminations over tiny victories. The easy beauty of the underside of a CD in the electronic glow of a a computer screen. Communication mixing distance up with depth. The slanted sides of friendships and their footholds of discretion. Street sounds of abandoned promises. They way we look under multi-colored lights. Our potential stretching like smoke over buildings, the neon flash between PM and AM. Everything coming out of cracks and over neighborhoods. The smell of a familar car and the warm taste of a beer you've been holding for too long. Sighs under proximity. Air where you least expected it. The deafening loudness of body language. Repeated lyrics over and over and out of tune. That disonant space between what you could prove and what you can't explain, and the shrill space where they meet. Whoever it matters to most, beside them sit the uncomfortable silences, like a bus ride back from vacation. So many stories to tell, but only fractions, now. Something else remains. In the shaking half-sleep; speaking only in looks. The world was made for moments like these. There we blink our eyes at purpose. Where our bodies fail.