He said it was easy to lose your mind to the voice in your headphones. California invades the bones of your chest and sends pleasure feelings up your spine. Cool like ice cream. We sit in patterned lawn chairs in the yards of summer while tepid clouds pan overhead. They float with fickle speeds as we hand them our eyes on the hour. And they make shapes; we’ve known this, yet their stories keep eluding us. So we wrote them new. We gave them names and purposes, relationships and pride. Each had a favorite song and their memories were nice.