i slept in a 20 year old t-shirt last night. in fact i'm still wearing it as i write this. it's as soft as flannel now, worn and dreamy. this shirt is an embrace when i wear it, that makes me a little giddy and sad. reminding me of the years when university was behind me and real life was still years away. when responsibility was just a suggestion and i roamed and painted and dreamed. lisa gave me this shirt and covered it with words she'd written in block letters. not just words, but words that i loved. addresses of where i'd lived and where i would one day live. names of people i loved. names of artists i revered. names of my dogs. names of boys who i thought were men. lines of poetry.....lisa's, mine and our favorite poets. cities. and lisa's bright wit stringing names together so that several people shared one line.....bob dylan thomas hardy.
over the years the writing has faded. i have gone over the letters with a sharpie many times, so there is slight shadow behind each word. the ghost of my youthful self watching me, taking every journal and sketchbook and mixed tape and reducing it all to this shirt. my favorite thing.
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