This shortest day has been flooded with sunlight. I slept almost none of the night. The hinges of the year have felt rusted shut for a long time, but I can't pretend it hasn't still been swinging to the rhythm of axial tilt whatever once and future fantasies people like to frame themselves inside. Sidereal time does not care whether I still have to ask the contractors to mask themselves before they cross our threshold—strange guisers—to repair some small parts of our house. It was oddly, seasonally apropos. Happy solstice! If the sun can come back, why not the rest of us, at least once in a while?
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- 1: But I was cruising Gawain in the mist
- 2: How do we sleep while our beds are burning?
- 3: All of it's golden, my body is floating, I'm still alive
- 4: Why don't you ever let me love you?
- 5: I'm man enough to be a party girl and dance all night, the American high
- 6: With that you're-on-camera smile like she wants to try me on
- 7: Wish they'd drop the knife in the peep-show parking lot
- 8: When you go to hell, I'll go there with you, too
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