Hours
I almost forgot that your dad liked baseball so much. He's so charming, I'm so glad I got to see him - and you, always. I only hope that you're doing well. I'm always a little older when I'm around you- my childhood, my friend, my inevitable future. We'll think of something. We'll always be us. And perhaps you may not notice, but I always remember you and my old self when I come out of the tunnel and go ticker-tacker on the late night tracks. And in all those mental photographs, your eyes were always closed:
