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2002-11-03 - 10:17 a.m.

fall mornings are cleaner than a six-year-old bukowski's vocabulary. especially here in anywhere, usa. it is deceptively bright today and the air brushes my skin like silk. my heart sits low as i continue to drag a weary self through another 24-hour cycle of just not getting it. how can one swing from the mast of a moving carship, naked at 7 mph with a posse of future whores and revoltionaries, screaming the mantras of yet another modern primitive renaissance...and still hang oneself in dillusion and fear. one. refusing to let go. one. it is all right there. one. it is alright here.

i opened my eyes to the scent of familiar and imagined you beside me. you had slipped in the night before as though you were trying not to wake me. how could you not. dreamy eyed, i rolled my lips to greet you and immediately felt the cool of you against my semiconsciousness. you smelled like boy and salt. sweet and pungent. my eyes remaining closed, you buried your self against me, finding the dialogue between curve and form, movement and temperature. and you didn't kiss me yet, allowing your body to find my own. but i was stripped of will and filter and like a feeding child i pulled your lips to mine.

i could stay here forever.

you used to look at me like i was the girl you had created in your 17 year old ideals. fucking and grinning like we were making it all up. you would lose time in gaze. the quiet laugh of adoration after assaulting you with relentless wit and shabby puns. you thought i was ridiculous. i thought you were brilliant. sketch me a planet with an island for you and me. draw me a machine and a tool and i will know exactly what to do with it. deliver me led traces of wave and frequency and i will read the beating of your soul. just don't let me send you away.

< yeah >