One year ago...
The drunken girl next to me swaying to the sernade on stage,
with daisies in her hair, obviously was enjoying the concert on a
whole other level. Ray Lamontagne was the one doing the seranading
and he practically made out with the microphone as he performed
with a rare intensity. The man can sweat, and the whole night
a timely drip-drop came from his auburn beard.
My souveniers were a green t-shirt, now pilled,
and a stronger love for his sound.