Kites

Bon Iver • re: Stacks

“We’re having a soiree come on up!” you yelled outside your iconic window. Facing bustling Queen street, the voice of party and no reason shot waves of sound east and west. The best spot in the world. High as kites, we welcomed no one. You offered passersby to come and knock on our door. I fostered the idea of dressing up as Jack, Chrissy and Janet for Halloween. Three’s company after all. Seems like the story of our lives lately. Vino, toxic laughs, a reunion with a cat that makes so much sense, an incorrect order of pizza and then this song. It just gets better with age and it’s the first sign of forthcoming cold winds. Hopefully this one will be a good winter — bon hiver.  When the night ends, I walk down the staircase and pause right before the exit. A painting on the wall to the left catches my eye. A mother and her daughters braiding hair. So I stare at it for a moment and still hear voices of a sedated gathering that waits to be extinct. The painted ladies are weaving. Some sort of tale. Much like this astonishing tune. And then I make a move because a stranger is behind me. Hastening me to leave.

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