Wednesday, April 20, 2011

To Andrew McMahon

I forget how you affect me
until you do it. When I turn
on your sound, I turn into someone
else. I am the hermit, the recluse,
the nobody. I am the star,
the planet, everyone and everything.
My hair strays to my face,
and I become empowered, impassioned.
It’s what you hoped for,
I imagine.

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