It's never too late.

And I mean flushed in the non-bathroom sort of way

Weighing my pockets with stones of longing

Especially when those days are Saturday and Sunday.

They always come crawling back

Some days I wonder what people who pass me by must be thinking. Do they think, "I have stepped on that slab of concrete every day this week." Or, "Forever is a long time just to look around." I think, "I bet that fellow with the dark trench coat and tattered jeans is thinking about how much he loved bubblegum ice cream when he was a kid, and how, secretly, it still sounds really good."

Like singing while wearing headphones: at 11:56 p.m.