before :: after

i play pete yorn in my new used car,

i drive through streets that have drawn me these nineteen years, count missed cell phone calls.

same size nine and a half feet, only the shoes have changed. only the skin on the bottom has changed, the cracked-heel skin, dry chapping from the seasons.

the same blue shining in between tree branches. same soft air.

pete yorn's second album is the same,
and so am i,
but only

maybe i am not.