The Blues Are Still Blue.

It's hard to believe it's been two weeks,

It's a new year,

And that I have, yet again, failed to do anything.

It's hard to believe we are all still here,

Still breathing and bright eyed.

It's hard to believe it was sixty degrees yesterday,

When it was December.

I like the way December sounds,

I just do not like the month.

Expect for the baby Jesus holiday and whatnot.

Silly baby Jesus, you were supposedly born in the springtime!

It's interesting,

How things go,

And I do wonder why we let things continue.

Why don't we stop wasting time?

I think it's because there's "so much" of it,

We have it in excess amounts,

But not really.

I've wondered many times,

Many things.

About you.

About the sea and the sky,

And the birds.

Who dart and whir above.

In the grey or blue or sapphire-y black.

I group you with things I like.

I associate you with things like the color green,

It's bright and energetic, like you.

And you sometimes have the same calming effect as the

Sea.

The song title is

A Belle and Sebastian song,

A very rock-like song.

I mention this only because

I once made you listen to them,

And I'm not sure what you thought.

I'm still very lost as to what music you listen to.

I'd venture you like classic rock,

But you may prove that wrong.

Right now,

I am missing summertime.

I miss leafy wisteria vines and late nights,

With open window and billowing curtains,

And nightgowns.

I miss walking in the nighttime,

Around the block talking too loudly with my best friend.

I miss summer nights.

They're the best variety of nights.

They have some sort of weightless,

Beautiful aura,

And I remember night swimming in the country air,

In water warmer than the chilling air.

I remember watching the bats swoop and dive,

And it really seemed as though they were catching mouthfuls of stars.

I remember ghost stories and campfires,

And feeling more alive than usual.

Summer air is electric and bold,

While being subtle and sickly sweet,

Like the mint tea I brew in the afternoons in July.

Nights always gave way to clear skies and

A calm zephyr.

I never forsake summer nights.

Lying on the heated pavement

Under the orange glow of the street lamp.

Or catching fireflies with the Qwon.

Or playing barefoot basketball.

Watering the flowers in the dusk.

Nothing is more soothing,

(Other than the sea)

Than a summer night.

Not spent in sleep,

But spent in quiet contemplative thought,

Under a bold blue sea of stars,

Here in the suburbs,

Accompanied by an orchestra of air conditioners.

I long for those nights

In the doldrums of winter.

It is only January.

We've got a-ways to go.

But so be it,

I can still live how I please

When I sleep.

By the way,

When I dream,

It's of you.

Silly boy.

I love you.

Regardless.