Take me back, way back
to the quietness
of a summer evening,
watching the moths
circle the lights,
when I was young.
A time when
everything was
black and white,
when I was only
beginning to test the gray,
where Jackson’s filling station
was the center
of what was happening
in my world —
a place where I could
get what I needed,
before I knew
what I wanted,
but still meet my connection . . .
take me back
in the nighttime
I still hear the moment,
the moment,
the moment,
take me back,
take me back.
— kenne
Images by kenne
Becoming is Superior to Being 