then slept

and washed up in the morning. can't say why. so now i'm sitting here, the opposite of yesterday. i don't have anything to do, really. so i'm settling in and listening to a few classic tunes and thinking about you. the day is dripping by. i am part of the drizzle. so here is where it happens sometimes. slowly, sweetly, achingly.

there are no storms on the horizon.

so i'm waiting for sound to pulse forth and reach me somewhere, full and thumping. there are so many songs to sing, so many sounds to wade through. but all of it coming in slow motion, in clinks and clacks rattling throughout the room. i am settled but slow.

the weather is warm.

maybe i'm only the mornings. maybe i'm only trees into the air and shrubs spreading out. maybe i find myself, as we often do, on the front end of a swallowed moment. for now, these are turning pages. for now, these are just minutes blinding by. for now, i'm just one daydream from the fountain.

the water level is low.

i've been letters at dawn. i've been scavengers of the past. i've been funeral homes and sad seconds. i've been floating armies of fun and dark motel room nights. now i'm sideways looks and private fingers.

these breezes never end.

and so i sit, staring widely, into the air, watching dust come to rest. like this, it's more tender than all the simple looks in the universe.

2008-03-13 | 3:01 p.m.
0 comments so far