night walking

last night i went to a devendra banhart concert with a friend and his cousin and some others. it was wonderful and alive and we danced the whole time. the room was terribly hip, like we were all on our way to a williamsburg-themed costume party, there was a strange transvestite heckler, and devendra didn't play my favorite song, but it was all great. afterwards we all went back to someone's house- i'll call the owners dan and jb. it felt like minutes but we were there for hours, talking and making music- i left tipsy on cheap wine and the bright absence of everyone who shifts in and out of mattering. jb walked me home. it was cold and our whole bodies chattered. the walk home always looks different very late at night and usually it is, there's a heightened sense of circumstance and why. some people seem different at night, where there's the danger of falling for them in that strange space of what you make them out to be and which you'll spend days trying to bend them to fit. walking home has that same duplicity and at night it's wonderful and secret and new. sometimes i think about ann arbor and see it all in walks home late at night, it becomes the best city there is.