At work, while the sky darkened & poured sheets of rain, I put on one of my favorite rainy day CD’s: Angie Aparo’s The American. (“Cry” is his song, not Faith Hill’s.) After a few unhappy moments remembering the person who turned me on to the CD, I skipped ahead to one of my favorite songs, “Gravity.” It’s not the best song on the CD, but there’s a lyric that has me totally ensnared.
We carried our cross like a clover
And we smoked cigarettes & we lied
About the things we would feel when we’re older
Oh God, what a fine waste of time
& I miss you. Are you coming over?
I don’t know what it is about those words, but I stop for them every time & daydream. My own little soundtrack to some imagined moment.