‘You make me feel so young,’
he sang with a lilt,
Southern fried and gentrified.
He felt the sun on his face
as he drove with no limits,
a ray of light on a dark highway.
There is so much talk
about what’s for dinner,
yet what we really want to know is
how do light particles really bend
and do we move through them
or do they move through us,
and will there be time to name
all the ways we are delighted
by seeing the one we love
or will we run out of breath
and the remaining endearments
will be left to turn into stars
since what else shines at night
besides things we don’t understand?
It only takes one daydream
inside one man
to make a story made of bits of wind
and some scattered light
that can withstand doubt, night,
and long road trips.
The Word Rummager 
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