Because it's the way the fire catches the green herb and that almost pumping red flame mixes colors as we started with yellow pain until we interbred all the paints until we got that ashy black tone.

Drugs give you the lens to turn all things foreign. You go back to naivety, and it opens the opportunity for you to look at the world in a new way.

Because there's something  about the burnt smell of firewood
The roasting of driftwood and scraps of kelp
Frosted ocean breeze at the tip of each nostril
And a fog lit sky covering the roadway

Often people gather to see the end of civil twilight
In hopes to conjure up a natural flame
Working against and with the tradewindsC

Purple tips softly graze the tops of the golden fields.
Vines line the wire fences
Grapes as supple as your lips.
Motors and metal  wind down the valley floors
Hills between Sonoma and napa shimmer with darkness.
The trees line the tips of each hill creating shadows following the ridges.

Twangy sounds of banjos strum in the background
Familiar laughter. Common conversation.
Passing the Fremont diner, Steinbecks route is traveled again

Together?



Want to watch the waves and the full moon rise above us
Want to watch the fire burn to smoldering ashes as we sit in the night
Want to watch the stars and realize how small we are
Want to love you forever

Together I want to watch the sky change rapidly from the bright blue to the purples and pinks that make the water obfuscous
Then to the darkness that can only be broken by a full moon

Want to listen to the winds, singing in our ears while our bodies are entangled in blankets of sand and fog
Want to watch the substratum of clouds lift to brighten the moon and stars
Want to slowly doze off in your arms, weighted with enchantment  as the break of day embarks
Want to drift into the kelp....with all else behind us....

Our bodies lie next to eachother
Juxtaposing
In such contrasting perfection
Your shoulder supplants as my pillow
Our lips touching satisfy my every urge
Each nibble on the neck acts as a reminder of why we are here
Love.
So practical and enjoyable
But you can see in my eyes, I wonder why.
My mind questions my bodies
And its desire, its yearning, in its simplest form, its want to be held.
Though- I am able to turn my back toward you, curl my legs to yours
and forget this question for one more minute.

And the sweat drips from your nose as the candlelit sun frames your face. As wax melts beyond our would and the light redefines where our bodies begin.

That is what an afternoon nap is all about

The sound of a car horn lets you know the world outside is still going.

I never understood what that song meant when they said they left their heart in San Francisco. But now I know. You are unable to feel, unable to love, unable to wake up in the morning and feel content. Being in that "place" allows you to wake up and take a deep breathe. Right now, when I am unable to love, I am at a loss at expressing myself. I am trying to extract my feelings and drip them on  to a petri dish in hopes that they will double and grow over time. But, it doesn't....and I sit here while I know my love, my passion, my affair of the heart, my tears, my everything all whirls up and is there, 232 miles away from me. It all lies on the sand while each wave rolls up and kisses the shore.

What a thing to have and lose. That moment between then and now. The salt barely leaving your lips but already lost on your tongue. Those shivers between hot and cold and perfect. When I think back to the memories, my temperature changes, my stomach emptys, and tears flow. I can picture it right here, right now. And those smiles we had in those memories make me question my current direction. The need between necessity and desire. So I sit here and wonder, if any future moment will ever compare to the one that was lost between the salt on my lips and tongue