my home videos won't mean a thing in fifty years 
that day will come and all i've done will be rendered forgotten 
old vhs tapes — the broken arm and the baby — my first bike ride when my dad told me he wouldn't let go of the seat 
vhs videos — "here he is, the man of my dreams" — now those tapes that meant everything to me aren't even fit for a yard sale 
it hurts 
when friends are hurting 
my friends are hurting 
look below the surface — do you see the spawning salmon, unaware or well aware of their living and dying? 
feel the money magic — the forest like a couch — can you forget those days of vast daring, lone poplar, and five dollar bills?