in one breath i could take you with me. come, love, to the other side. wasn't that you i saw strapped to the wind as you rode your triumph against the current of the 101 north. you flew past me like freeways were just lines on the horizon like distant trees and stratus clouds. each car slipped into the abyss that was your imaginary landscape. don't you know i saw you. two un-parallel lines were created beneath us and i have been writing a landing for you. i kiss you on top of your head while you sleep. i can smell your denim, the neck of your favorite black tee. my mowhawk boy, where were you going so fast.

i walked into the odeon and my ageless brother of the next revolution lept a cornfield to embrace me with gratitude. my flash. my lunatic. my wizard. and flash loves me beyond lifetimes and fills me with that love in every glance and hug and super special cocktail of the evening. and as i guzzle some blend of ginger and tequila, he praises my name and my safe return. we sparkle back and forth across the bar as chicken grunts and groans somewhere in the dark corners of his misery. and i am almost saddened by flash's love for me. and he says. you know david, right? david, dice david. duck david. of course i do. kj and i are david's playa bookends. in my mind i become giddy thinking of kj and i rescuing david at his duck in the dessert. our lonely alcoholic angel who always gave us the world. of course i know david, who pulled up to the pink trailer on his motorcycle with ravishing beauty in tow to greet kj and i and invite us out to the horizon to play. humble, gentle, lonely, inventive david. sweet, sad, sexy, behind-the-scenes david. and then flash said, david died three weeks ago in a motorcycle crash. of course i knew david. and i cried and was filled with a spectrum of tear. and flash was silent for a moment. i know it happens. we are a community of hundreds. people die. especially when our mantra is safety third. this is our life together. so thanks for the playground, david. we love you.

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