wheel

the friends that i miss
were staples at the old house
(and when i say old house, i mean old)

we would eat tofu tacos on the sidewalk,
or fall asleep to devendra banhart's record (the solo shit),
or have dance parties in the kitchen (daft punk and royksop),
or hide in my tiny bedroom,
or drink way too much Carlo Rossi and talk for hours in the lopsided living room,
or have presents be thrown into open windows when not looking,
or quiet recordings of voices sung or unsung.

i am studying the ways that we grow up.
and i understand the different theories that people have proposed...
yes, i know that we all go through cycles
(we are born, we are not alone, and then we grow up and we are alone and then we meet people and then we are not alone anymore but then we lose contact with those so we are really alone and then then they meet people and now then are not alone but then they lose others so they are alone ?!?!?!)
i don't know.
i really just want to thrown my arms up in defeat and
meet you all there in the 6th street park and
ride on that wheel one more time
but this time instead of taking only pictures of us turning,
i would swallow.