We kept running around the lake, trying to beat the sunset. We held onto the fact that we were in our bathing suits.
So If We Were My days would be Sticky floors Wooden doors Chicken shit Feathers in my hair. Stained sheets Fresh Meat Cutting Boards Trips to town “Put my face on.” So if we were My nights would be Pushing cats Swinging screens Moths in light. Heavy wet blankets Sunshine sheets Long sits in Mountain air Flowers in my hair Feathers in our books.
I think that you are a lake between two mountains. I would describe it, but I think that it’s better this way. But if I did, dark and deep and heavy blue. Still, just let me sit.
I texted you poetry.
Something about wine traveling distances in a wooden box.
About the dogs and danger of the neighorhood, About never forgetting this song and crying on the couch.
Something about the big scary man being a softy, About the mystic crows in paintings, And how he looked at me.
Something about you understands me so completely, Julia my sweet.
You laughed at me for noticing the circumstances. What was I thinking? I wave goodbye in order to finish what we had started.
Speed = distance/time
Patience= speed/time
Alien abduction art show. Jersey city. A gliche in the universe.
In.di.an Sum.mer/noun 1 a. The trees were flying by with the windows open. 1 b. My feet never touched and you always smelled like fire smoke.
Morning doves have a lifespan of 1.5 years.
A thermometer outside a window on a cold connecticut day. A cook washing a clock. Who here has cried because of a painting?
A professional land lord. The death of your boss. The life of a mail man told in the key of Stephen King,
The volcano cloud drifted earlier then expected.
Maybe it will happen in the spring, Or on a bus Or in a plane Or under water.
You came in on cosmic circumstances. Vows blurring. Train windows blurring. I’m your high priestess. I’m no one. I’m just staring at you. I mean really staring at you. Staring at your train windows blurring. Blurring behind your head. Speed= Distance/Time. One of those three things are swelling right now.
Vets baked in the sun in camoflouge from the night before. Leather boots and canvas hats off. Mothers told daughters over blue tooths to give it up to God, and that going to church is about more than just dressing up on Sunday. Something must have happened on Easter. Too short a skirt, Too high a heel.