We are such delinquents, and what a joy it is to swill that word around our mouths like bad bourbon. So what if we’ve started a few fires? You can walk on water and I can follow in your footsteps. You tread the waves flat and I aim for the shoeprint. It’s easy. It’s so easy.
Because this is what we do. This isn’t an affectation or a hobby or a cry for help. This is why we breathe. Surfing clouds is easy, swimming in a blue sky is easy. Opening our eyes to the rain and letting it drip on our cornea’s without blinking is easy. We run our fingertips through the concrete of a subway and carve our names into the dust and disappointment, and it is easy.
Time to soar, time to beg for more. A handful of hair and a crease on the hip, we collide…
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