When the earth and the blue divide into two we are always equal parts.
It is there for us and we for it and nothing will change that.
There is nothing wrong with conversation and the hope of
generation after generation migrating, populating, and franchising the
globe, building coffee in our robes, shaping buildings when we doze,
and negatively enforcing popularity. We lean towards stairing
contests to see who can get the highest. Red eye conversations
floating on cheap airline tickets bought before you were old enough to
purchase what we drink without smelling, let alone reading. We don’t
do that anymore. It is all done for us by the
cattle-call-audition-actors with voices and no faces because
originality is a formality of history. Future becomes mystery and the
novels keep coming. Pirates keep bumming as we turn our beamers down
safer streets. Streets of which we will probably run out and who
really knows the difference. What good is spitting distance from the
ghetto if there is no ghetto for to spit on. Bring it on sister
friend. Bring it on sister friend.
Photo by Sadie Myers. Words by Dustin Whitehead.
