Tired, despite that long sleep last night. And afraid of ever running home again. Run home sweet thing, run home.
Every single tiny clip that's really supposed to be so great.
But even when you crop (never did look back), oh, the little demons come screeching down the hallway. Tearing their spider-sounding nails against the thick damp office carpeting. Wall to wall caving in on my head and mingled voice, and sneeze, and turn.
Welsh witch, LOOK to soak it all in.
Look, the raindrops that suddenly were bought for ownership, in a little secret steal-away. So many unknown. The onlookers, and your religion. Tightened grip and squeaked feet. The rope cologne and the soaked silk. Begging for sanctuary, while begging for the storm. Singing in the storm, singing with the dim light of only sweetness. With the way it spun and came undone...and neither one had a place to share. Neither one spoke anything truly serious.
But isn't it all just so serious?
Sorry to have slipped.
_____________________
I spent three weekends making myself scratched up by the sand-in the sun. Sailing tack drills two-by-two, two-by-two off Rocky Point State Park.
Weird strangers and athritic teachers.
Up early. Heading to the water's edge.
~~~~~~~~And one day the waves curled with white caps, the ropes kicked, the boat swerved, the tiller slipped....and I no longer wanted to capsize.
The danger wasn't there to be mud-smeared on shoulders anymore.
Saw the ice-cream truck parked on shore, heard the instructor yell, and felt....shocked.
I no longer wanted to capsize.
No. We don't have to believe. We don't have to capsize. We can be sick to our feet with "next time"s and make it all a funny name-less story.
We can sit beside something together--because i lost hope. and well, we lost hope. and he said you're just angry.
So let's pretend to love........the summer, summertime.
....Dream a thousand adventures, and never touch like what we dream...There's a perfect spot, on the floor outside that door...
So let's pretend to love........the summer, summertime.
....Dream a thousand adventures, and never touch like what we dream...There's a perfect spot, on the floor outside that door...
Goodbye to old and cold. I'll be with the shoreline and the stories.
Keroac leading it all back.
Daily headphones:
