[southern grapes in september]

each time the muscadines turned ripe
I’d spend my afternoons hoarding fruit in my fists
ain’t it strange how spitting seeds
almost resembles blowin a kiss?

but you warned me back then
sweet girl, the skin is thick

well it’s muscadine season, pa
and there’s nothing here to pick
remember how we’d check the vines
that wrapped along your chain link fence?
but ever since the owners died,
only the weeds are getting rich

now look at me, pushing 40
forging memories on grocery lists
buying southern grapes in September
that only strangers’ hands have picked
No, I don’t mind that it all tastes counterfeit
ain’t it strange how spitting seeds
almost resembles blowin a kiss

[DITKANOSLI]

I’ve been on a very specific kick lately for a genre of music that could probably be titled “dancing in the kitchen at night or something like it”. Here are a few of my favorites if you’re into that sort of thing.

DEVOTION - Justin Bieber ft. Dijon

Superglue (Live Session) - ROLE MODEL

I Need You - Zac Farro

Baby! - Dijon

until next time. -cd