The Hipster Philosopher

I forget the very moments,

the starts of things;

the first hard attack of the band or,

how I grew into a friend because

how could I be me, a man, before these things?

But you,

all finger tips and toes,

the bed before sheets,

both first beginnings

and the cold start of now, one winter ago;

I remember all of you like the bird remembers:

South.