Like the railroad car

Even the rain is lookin for passion tonight - hitting the window ledge by the bed so absent-mindedly - tsic… tsic…….taack…tsick………tsh… -- as I let every muscle ease into a tired numbness with one arm over the edge lying on my stomach in the cool dark. Or at least I was till these damn words came strumming the back itches of my nostalgic gut-thoughts. 

I keep hearing that I'm telling eerie things in my sleep again -- waking the ears down the hall when I visit other places. And it feels like a mythic Thing (to be kept secret) hiding underneath that I can't seem to converse back with to find out the warnings, or maybe - the beautiful spins of incohorent words…

The mysteries it could open.

And all the while I'm reminding myself over and over again of the stimulating, passing images of the past few weeks - the smells, the waves at turn-of-dusk, the heat from the grass --- 

….an abandoned, hidden railroad car spotted at a turn I'd turned by 10 times before, in the tall tall grass by the water's edge…

….a full-grown-man bunny rabbitt sadly handing me a piece of paper in the smoke-hazed outside of a tiny amber bar with a group of filmmakers. 

All these tellings of ourselves-past, that don't really tell anything too far. 

Don't ever - cross too far into what actually could be more terrifying. What could shake the windows. What could rattle a heart, and body, into places that leave marks forever later. Rattle yourself into the consuming passion again of another soul. 

Those are the longings, the rememberings, your body feels when it feels so hot out. It goes through all its own shadows before the mind ever allows to do the same. It feels the things it wants anew. 

It calls on what it whispers. 

And all the while its lost into the safe current-ed nights and isn't heard.