Pictures come from Darkrooms

On another folded up piece of paper in my desk drawer-- written during a two-person interpretive dance party to Bright Eyes records. 

Something is wrong when I want to move to Tennessee

Because I think a friend might live there

Because profile pictures are more important

than jeans or hair

Yesterday you had to stay

in Shape and Form and Style

and the songs were realer

and the movies grossed in billions

There are billions of movies

And zillions of copies

And I would fail arithmetic

And my mom would be arthritic

Either way

The sun rises and sets differently every day

But the light and dark will roll forever

And even if we destroy the atmosphere

thunder will sound regardless of a simile to drums

Spacebars are for thumbs

Polaroids of postcards

But either way the rock is hard

I asked the child why he cried

and he told me that his luck had died

and I told him mine had too

I told him a story about Jesus

and said it once was true.

And he smiled happily

And laughed and asked me

about how pictures work.

My father doesn't believe I like his music

Or I can operate a record player

But I have fingers and good taste

even though I still have hair. 

People will dance because

tomorrow our software might undoes

but our hardware will be fundamentally the same.

My friends are afraid of God

But I've never met Constantine

And the Spartans cherrypicked their theology

And the taxes have been too high since the invention of money

I'm sure when I'm an old woman

The trees wont be as green

And the kids will be bizarre

There might be a city on the moon

And I'll tell the thirty-somethings what I've seen

And they will think I'm undervalued

because they will be me soon.

But for now everything is hip and cool and new

And I'm in a tapestry

with a special thread to do

and a nice warm knot to make with you

and you have one too.

And some of us hate it and some of us are wealthy.

Things happen and don't and people are happy. 

I want to go to Australia

because a new age brought me an Australian friend.

Everything is good and bad and all songs end. 

-Citron