The plan was that we would take a final trip, so that we could see the coastal strip where we used to beg for change. Our shoes then were more duct tape than they were shoes, full of sand and coated with glue. Hm, I guess they’re still that way. I can’t add days to your life, but I could add life to your days. Face down on a beach, both trying to speak…words bubble and they swell at a lectern made of seashells. Flattened rocks that we’d engrave with Spanish words we still retained. We’d skip them south to Mexico, then watch as the mist turned into rain, while the Doppler effect of trains would embellish the night with drowsy notes. Chorus.