Close your eyes, and jam those old earphones in your hearing holes.

Sit down on that gate by your house.

Look up at that blue, blue sky, away from the mud beneath the fence, as brown as your eyes.

Listen to that old song they'd play at the dances in the theatre/gym by the school, when all us grade school kids would awkwardly bob to the music. You would do ridiculous dance moves because you didn't seem to care what anyone thought.

Try not to think of the old rugs they'd slap across the floor, covering wires, sticky with gum and Lord knows what, or the too-loud music, or the stench of fog machine and B.O.

Think of how you've known me since the Big Bang.

Think of the girl from kindergarten with the short brown hair and big, big eyes and big, big dreams she never really believed in. Think of the boy from the pictures with the short brown hair and big, big eyes and big, big dreams that would become the last thing he'd want when he grew up.

Think of the girl with the speech and the boy who had no idea she delivered it to him.

The girl achieving every academic award at school, and the boy with a friend for each star in the sky.

The archer and the gun lover.

The motto on your family crest, in English, is, "No sleep for those on guard."

How true that is.

You're always on guard, watching the walls you've constructed



to keep people out.

You don't rest for fear of someone sneaking in. You don't have a moment's reprieve because you're too scared you might end up loving someone.

So sit there on the gate
Surrounded by those walls
And listen to this song
Chasing Cars
While the cars pass by
And think about you and I.

That's all I ask of you.