"i wish the sky would rain down roses, as they rain from off the shaken bush. why will it not?"
22
in the bare silence of sleep-time, Parachutes played almost as untimely as it was inadequately loud. suddenly tears welled in my eyes, unstoppably, and drenched my cheeks like a spilt canister of milk. i found two hands on my face, indiscernibly my own, so i wept and wept into nothingness.
deterred by pride, i didn’t say goodbye. we didn’t say anything. we merely touched and waved and you let me walk away perhaps without at all a lump in your throat. long after the end of that night, and long after a sad song wafted into my ears, i was weeping still, so i decided to take the longest way home. i journeyed across familiar streets with four out of five bleary senses, and sailed closer, closer to my only place of dearest solace.
