Woe betide the human who doth love me, made to pose with amaranth, till death by vibrant sidewalk flower.
Yeah, where did that come from. A previous century, I guess. All amaranth, all the time. Is it overwhelmingly beautiful, or is it just me?
“Would you kneel down right there? That’s a bend, not a kneel. Back a little bit. Ok, good. Now look happy. Happier!” We laughed so much.
But my spokes said too much. Pop! they said when I turned a corner, going fast, as we cycled to the Worker for basil and buckets. At first I thought it was the zipties holding my basket on, breaking again.
Wrong! So we took the two back tires to the pretentious bicycle shop. The moody workers said, “Oh no, people. I hope they leave soon, so we can be alone again, with our precious bikes.” The room was over-filled with bikes. Bike tires bumped my legs, like curious goats nibbling the edges of my jacket.
Just kidding–they didn’t really say that. I wanted to stay longer because I liked the music playing in there. The owner must be my age. “Letter to Elise” by the Cure was playing as we left. I hadn’t heard it in a long time.
take me into all of your lifetime
But now all I want to hear is “Lamentations” by Sufjan Stevens. It’s party day in our neighborhood, so I have the headphones on, and I’m like, “How loud can I play this without damaging my hearing?”
I am in love with this song, listening to it over and over, which is a symptom, maybe. I forgive that vague early choir, overly holy, at the end. Maybe I should have been an electronica person? It makes my body want to dance, but my mind too, and my soul, should a soul exist.