I caught fleeting glimpse
of her throughout the day,
She lingered by the water's edge,
with another group, their tale yet unsaid.
A megaphone blared brazen attitudes to the air,
A bottle of Buckfast was her chalice to bear;
She supped that viscous liqueur,
It's contents  not as dark as her charcoal hair.
By the Spanish Arch as daylight subsided, we drank
and wandered among the intoxicated.

Then the guards came
and chased us all away.

A street-party was going down in The Latin Quarter.
Tides of people made it hard to get around. Deftly,
I waded through the massive crowd
to find friendly revelers in the tavern above.
Later, across the way in our favourite pub,
She resurfaced, megaphone still going,

Her eyes spoke volumes of venturous exploits,
This night but a chapter in a tome of conquests.

Those pupils that glimmered
had something magic in them:
A soft disregard for the world
and calm anticipation.

Ten-thousand mics under the sea
and the stage was an island, stranded
on another planet's horizon.

By Saturn's rings
I saw a tiger.

Bittersweet, I miss that;
The longing, the madness.
I ask: is context all that ever is?
Yes, but there's more to life than it.

Living in Progress, the purpose subaqueous
like waves lapping on temporal sand.
Keep an adaptable mind at hand.

This is more than a dance, humans in motion
react differently. Like sheets of silk, smooth yet trippy.

Acid burn,
Liquid trance.

My mind goes to weird and wonderful places when left unattended
and they make me reel it back in.
Them.
They don't want a person,
They want a tennis racket.

These days they hand you a certification
like it's the same thing as an education.

These summer times are what I crave;
Under an open ceiling, a place we can rave.
Those clear skies gave way to stars,
Around a campfire we take back what's ours.
We're out of the way, you'll never find us,
Reclaiming our hearts and souls
in the abandonment that surrounds us.
Just another generation to discover the profoundness.

Wake 'n bake's good to awake
but we don't sleep for dawn's sake.
Soft words linger in the swaying leaves,
Reminiscent of Medina's calm breeze.

This otherworldly stage set a silent scene
as fresh air whispers incantations to my being:
Azure haze of summer vibrancy.

Their voices ask:
What do you want?
(Or, what should you.)
Loyalty, ***, social recognition?
No, something else eats at me.
The conditioning words of those voices
made me think it wrong, that I long to say to her:
Lets be alone together,
Understand each other.

What do I crave? Just her,
To be with her for a moment.
For me, that moment is eternity.
Is this truth really so alien?
A single sentence takes precedent:
Rainy daze in winter ecstasy.