In a birthday card that says "I bow to your oldness";
in a lyric, and in my tweet.
Like a well-oiled machine, like a principled man.
With 2-day sleep and midnight recee and, macs and koi and supper.
A reversal of pronouns that i sing in my head:
"I don't know about your past/and you don't have a future figured out..."
On the precipice of a Sunday that I hope you will feature in.
