people love talking about how fast time flies by on the porch over beer and cigs in the middle of the night, quiet in every direction but forward. not that the past doesn't seem far from here, a distant speck you can hardly see with squinted eyes, or the future coming too soon to be soon to be. the conversation is now gone, and we'll wait until the next time showing photographs i cant believe that was then. crickets chirp not realizing they've done this before, how many last nights ago the same day playing the same song in the car to sit in. if we could only go back there, the days were those for us to be in. days to be inside of, we are making the days discussing the days over coffee today. we are falling forwards looking back at us from afar. it's too late now, please try again soon good to see you.