maybe i'll make music.

[lauraawesome]

feeling older than my skin. in vermont springtime hasn't happened yet. i bundle up. the days are gray and the mountains hide in the beards of the clouds. they're growing their whiskers out to the lake, drooling about themselves, licking their passionate lips and making them even dryer. the ranges speak my name a bit. i'm not sure what they're telling me, but i don't feel all that human. so it's ok.

there's something stirring. and the winds are changing. i'm not feeling dramatic. i'm feeling ok.
quiet. older. aged, like wine. but not wine.

i'm going to bike. i want to feel like i'm flying.
i want to feel the ranges swallowing my name.
moving it around in their treetops and digesting the vowels
of the lake.

i don't want to make sense.
i don't need to.
when i'm alone the mountains are beautiful.

she and i will bike.