30 years old.

After now, and travels and merching for an indie band and school and three well named research experiences and seven thousand three hundred and five cups of coffee and a bout of pneumonia and love, after that.

I.

I wake up to bells
that toll church and death
and go to both calmly
sweeping the
old stone.

II.

I peer at the young man
through a beaker
where one
drop
finally
dis

engages.
into the pool. 
My apartment is filled with art
by friends.

III.

I don't wear makeup,
even though by the rulebooks that's needed
for pristinity.
I know which tractor exactly
did that to his leg, and can explain hay harvest
and find breathtaking beauty
in your soul
I am not you yet
I am starting to get your freckles though,
and sun through mountain trees.

IV.

Rehearsals and lessons
taking life and soul and being a humming
a humming humming instrument
in the little boy's hands,
careful fingers work over his
and over my long ebony and steel magic wires
block I sit in front of the brass section
and sometimes my ears hurt a bit
power through me
beautiful beautiful humming humming.

and V.  as well.




-Citron