wishlist sorta days, when you write slow with deliberate movements; paper and pencil and sunny day afternoons.
finding the time to shuffle from porch to food to lemonade to friends to leaning on a railing somewhere speaking in monosyllabic emotive grunts and getting kicks watching trains pass on by.
neither here nor there, perhaps like existing in an endless friday afternoon, where everything rough and tumble is behind you, and there's nothing but an endless weekend yet to unfold.
lingering and daydreaming, listless and wistful, seeing everything through rose-tinted beer glasses.
homemade pickles and loud rock music.