the dance of the ink riddled fingers

and i say, “la la hey hey”

Satisfaction is having my right foot hovering above the brakes as I maneuver the curves of the familiar route home; the downhill momentum, a peaceable pleasure.  Sunshine through my windscreen and this new tune sparks a smile.  You’ve just about melted yourself into my daily schedule of thoughts.  Did I say daily? I probably meant every 3 hours.  But not in an unwelcome or nervous sort of invasion of thoughts, but the whimsically comfortable sort of curiousity.

Hahaha, that embarrassing stage of infatuation where every love song I hear, I eagerly pick apart lyrically, wondering whether I could apply it to you and how many songs I could use as vehicle for transporting me to a happy place (although, for the last month and a half, I think I’ve camped myself emotionally at this happy place).  Most of the songs though, I don’t find very relevant or accurate enough in the transposition of my processing this/you/us… as, well, it’s hard to apply love songs to someone you haven’t even talked to about liking.

Song 2:7

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