Missed Summer

Guess I missed summer again. Guess I didn’t mind… But then I remember that’s a lie too. All those teenie baby smiles on his little face, all those it’s-gonna-be-alright embraces, all the laughter and the sun, all those moments to take it all in, …and every single time I wished for someone far away and felt it all the way through. That counted too. 

Count the ways in which a season slips by in the way you don’t expect. And I will love you from faraway forever more; old friends that have been lost. Old roads and signs - and that strange wonderful night in November — they wait and they age, and we take a new risk tomorrow instead. We meet another. 

Wouldn’t I love to say something stunningly new now. Wouldn’t it change the course of fate by mere typing….with a slig of bourbon and gulp down of humidity, here we go. Here the dreams come true. Here upon this, and here upon next. And what was I saying? Ah hell another swig… 

Cause memories all sound better this way, and we do better as adults these days. We love and we teach and play with the kids cause they’re all precious things that age. Then you realize what you said — that you grew up. 

But you’re the same. 

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Down the road

That same song was playin’, as I looked out at the early evening city and took a breath — of finally cooling air, in, atop the drying dust of the day and mud on old shoes… And I thought about what I used to hope for. That it was disappearing… in the slow lane going down the highway — with this heaviness and this new patience, it was on the journey to gone for quite some time past and now…Gone. Maybe that was finally alright. Maybe I could smile about it, cause now I'm free of it, of being trapped inside your own wish, that's failing after every risk. Maybe it was after, after all. 

Cause the hot late-summer blood in my veins, it feels like the best of who I was before everything…went differently. Differently we go after so many chances, and we let this beautiful life change us. For love, for passion, for epic unexpected thought-it’d-work nights. Ah, but the nights… Fail again into something great, lay next to me, and maybe we’ll just remember the trace of moments I know this tired body has embraced, under the stars —— and let it come alive anew — jumping-into-their-arms without looking back kind of way…

…I could go for that kinda’ choice tonight, I think, as I get back in the car and turn right for home. For running into something, for risking the full throttle of what we have of roaring insides still. Still, after another day that felt like a year, burning alight a night, before that call at dawn — could be something. Really something we could have. Something for the next day. 

For now I’m not sure of the next words — I forgot them all this long strange summer along with everything — and now it tickles on my fingertips and the questions not asked on my lips, to talk of everything next. So what is everything now? Maybe tomorrow I’ll know… cause suddenly it’s all catching up and I’m tired. Letting the eyelids fall with the Book of Then put to bed. The hopes that never were that don’t survive. Everything that went differently…even in the place, that deep forest, that I loved, where I fell in love all those years ago — there was nothing to feel of before. There the hopes fell into the sand and I didn’t notice. 

So goodnight to that ever after and this tiresome day, there’s a beautiful morning coming in hours, even if I just sleep till then and wait…



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We move in spring.

Standing by the open screen on the second story of my little place, breathing in the Baltimore air with "thunder only happens when it's raininggggg" playing over the whoosh of cars and the sun setting - won't be home for long. Won't be long before there's summer - slow, hot sweat dripping down the center bony line down my chest, straight down… like it was the other night. When it just was, we were playing that same tired old game of not saying anything at all. Been so long since we said anything of souls and spirits, any of us that is. Rather stay in the momentum of our generation - with you remembering lines over all the parts of me again. Rather have not known, but now we know. 

The rain coming later tonight and it feels inside, greater than the night just closed - it feels like the grasses even, are reaching up in slow unawakening, and stretching in quietly openmouthed yearning for the thirst. Taking action in their next action - in it grows only more. For the knowledge of the rain and the caress of every bead of warm chilling dew after a long winter's wait - builds only desire for the next. And after the long winter - we've come blinking outside as strangers. I'm a stranger to myself, and she seems so strange to know, like all of that. Wonder if any lover or friend, they're always claiming to be both, has known the pattern of the outstretched beating of my heart - besides the pulse it gives to him as he goes faster. But still it gives in that, arch your head back and gasp - place of quickening song. Faster we're burning through our youth in sprints and halts. Halting entanglements. Get lost in the spell of crackling the incense lit…and let it fill the emptying room. The drapes and trinkets all packed up - allowing the ghost to play rhythms against the little bits of lights, the songs it knew - reminding me it's time to move. So move on. 

We move in spring. We make the left or right decisions that last the year through - we begin the things that in autumn's glowing light - feel so faraway and so fundamental. How many times we've made the last decision, the final break - the eternal coming together, cause this time it will grow in botanical curves and BE. This time everything will just follow in a line to the oceans of our memories and see? how you'll seem to have made sense in wandering. Hoping our best darling is waiting there. Everyone has a best. 

Best of everything is yet to come. As I sleep tonight it'll flutter over eyelashes and then walls and trees, across the secrets webbing together the next great wonderful big story to tell. The raucous time in the funny youth, that oh… what we would give to give again. Give into me and how you'll see…we'll see whats buried deep beneath a foundation you can really quake and crumble and dance along the cracks it forms… happiness is there. That's happiness. Summer and the end of circles around the town.  

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