I make music under the name Color Math.

Releases are infrequent, and I rely a lot on a rotating lineup of friends to help produce my music and make it available for listeners. But the songs keep coming like gifts from the melody muse. There are many newer songs I hope to share soon, but for now, I want to tell you about a track released in 2020.

Before I wrote poetry, I wrote songs. Eventually, I found that some words were meant for the page, not lifted up as lyrics into a true song. But the earliest bits of verse for 2009 came with a clear melody. Here’s how it took shape:

Listen below or on Spotify or Apple Music.

sometimes I still feel stuck in 2009
I still want to know what makes Sophia cry
resurrecting past lives
I am resurrecting past lives

Luna plays a song for me
we share headphones
we share a bus seat
she sits right next to me
behind are Asia and Nicky

juggling philosophies
believing we are wiser than we seem
we seem so naive
we’re barely passing for thirteen

some kids just crossing Highland Street
to buy some things
we know we don’t need
we don’t need anything
but time and luck and loyalty

walking Fourth Avenue a friend on either side
the time of no shadows my mama said we shoulda been inside

you never told me why you bite your lip so hard
til you see red, see red, see red, see red
see red, see red, see red, see me
walk the path from the bus stop singing at
the top of our lungs, our lungs, our lungs, our lungs
our lungs, our lungs, that was enough
to make your mother scream to make me sure
that she hated me, she hated me I think
today you might disagree

walking Fourth Avenue a friend on either side
the time of no shadows my mama said we shoulda been inside

sometimes I still feel stuck in 2009
I still want to know what makes Sophia cry
resurrecting past lives
I am resurrecting past lives

I grew up in Tucson, Arizona. My friends and I would walk out of 7th period science with Mr. Hernandez and cross the street to the UofA student market on Highland or a little farther down to Circle K. We’d get Thirstbusters of Dr. Pepper and king-size Kit-Kat’s and trek tirelessly through 3 p.m. heat. We sang out loud everywhere we went with a confidence only twelve-year-olds possess.

I moved away the first day of what would have been our freshman year together. I attended one day at Tucson High to say goodbye to everyone (and my perfect class schedule). That night we drove a U-haul to Southern California and traded our saguaro skyline for a Pacific shore, but those friends?

We’re still friends. Still singing.

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