closing shift yellows (why would they be blues? isn't yellow cheerful? so, yellows)

The sun is gone. The dark is in. It was finally cooler outside than it was in my car, by the time I had gotten off work, so I drove home with the passenger-side window cracked and the driver-side window rolled all the way down.

I've gone back to listening to the radio, since I can't listen to my own music in the car anymore. After listening to Top 40 hits over the store speakers for over four hours tonight, I will admit that I was actually grateful to hear the Rolling Stones sing to my spring night ears.

The farther up the hill, up the main East-West street in this town, that I drove, the smells changed. It smelled slightly of asphalt around the mall and downtown. Near the residential areas, I got a strong whiff of barbecue sauce, and as I neared the last few blocks before the last traffic light, it faded and mingled with the scent of freshly mown grass.

I pulled into my car's space and laughed gleefully for ten seconds at how clearly the beams of light shone, from the new headlamps, onto the side of my house, spilling into waterlike patterns at the edges, sharp.

I want the touch of your hand on my arm, on my shoulder, on the nape of my neck.

I get this silly little dipping feeling in my stomach every time I think of your face.

I've got new music and a rather ambitious list of songs that I'd like to cover, with the help of my brother, to be crossed off by the end of this summer.

I don't want to go to church tomorrow. I feel like I'm getting closer and closer to the point when I will try to sit down with my mother and tell her I've lost my religion. Judging from a similar experience with my father two months earlier, it'll probably be worse, but I think I'll try to bring in the Agnostic's/Atheist's Wager to aid me.

Alabama Shakes playing perfect summer music in my head. How does it feel like summer already?

Let me buy you a beer (or two). Whatever you want. I'll order a Blue Moon, squeeze the orange slice until there's practically no juice left, and let it float in my glass, and I'll probably be able to keep up with you, or at least try.

Hug me again. Put both arms around me this time.