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May 26, 2019
Thereís a face across the room, blotted out. Itís calling to you. No words. A window opens. Youíre young again outside. Toward the face youíre pulled. Itís familiar. Unfamiliar. Deep inside you know where youíre going. Youíve always known. The saxophone is giving you the key, the gun, as it all opens wide. A new mystery swirls like a black pool at your feet. Someone calls your name. You canít answer the call, but you know someday you will answer. Everyone always answers. Itís only a matter of time folding backwards.