I saw you through your sunglasses tan
Wondering how in the world you see through it,
How your vision comprehends sunset dead days when
You grew up with them in your lap,
Hand feeding them your freshest ideas like
Pine trees dropping cones all over the floor we try to run over,
Tripping on the pictures left in our minds.
There’s not a lot of life lived completely in light,
Not a lot of people who get cold in 75 degrees.