billie understands the way you should organize a bookshelf when the sun’s left his post. the way crickets should punctuate the crackle of vinyl. the way humidity should resurface the skin—a mustache of moist, a free feeling of funk. the way a stemless glass should rock—so sweetly in the palm, so gently near the tongue. the way darkness should saturate the windows, the way tomorrow should be made to wait.
because tonight is for me. and it’s for billie.
it’s about the sway of two strangers who’ve quite forgotten which decades they’re supposed to call home.
—this post was grown on the gram.