so i moved into an apartment in Portland. and whad'ya know, it's on good 'ol Emery st. so that makes the 3rd apartment on one street. 73, 85 and now 91 Emery. more on that later. but for now, a poem by a good friend, written on the banks of the Rio Grande.
He said his watch was too big for his wrist,
Kept sliding back and forth and back.
Every time he raised a hand to wave hello,
cast a line while he was fishing-
Even just flipping over a pillow at night,
that watch was always moving
And chafing across his skin.
Once he tole me that it bothered him,
All that back and forth of the watch,
So I said, Well why don't you just make it
Tighter, then you won't even notice it there.
But I knew he'd keep it loose
Cuz really it's about feeling those moments
On his skin.
That watch, always moving, always reminding
Him that time is just slightly big
So really, he should always feel it passing.
