there was something about standing alone in the streets past midnight waiting for the bus and listening to ani difranco on my ipod that made me think of you. maybe it was the anticipation of arriving home and settling in for the night; maybe it was the cross-streets -- the first time i got off a bus there was the first time i saw you; maybe, it was the voice of ani in my head; maybe, probably, it was a combination of all of the above.
the bus came and oddly enough, even though my ipod was set on shuffle, shuffle on all 2338 songs, it played ani's songs, one after another. (i guess i just had that many of them.) it was just like that night in your car, travelling on broadway westbound. you had a whole pile of cds, but you didn't play alix olsen, your favourite, or ember swift, like many people would, coming fresh from a concert. it was ani difranco, who you said ember swift kinda sounded like, which was all you needed to say to convince me to go to a gig with you, who were then, and maybe still are, a stranger to me in so many ways.