God is a name for the smell of squash plants under the noonday sun.

When the clouds are moving across the sky and you're drifting away in a fold out chair.

God is the word for when it all feels just right. Like you'll never be safer or more content than in this moment. You wish you could stretch it out forever.

God is the accumulation of all these flashes of goodness---an unexpected surprise, the smell of her cooking, his distinct laughter, a shooting star that brightens the sky and disappears, your smile--- our minds unable to comprehend an end to it all.

It must go on forever somehow.

And perhaps it does, just not in the way we expect.

I want to write you a big long letter
and give voice to the frustration I feel
maybe even get mad at you
take it out on you
say horrible, nasty things
flail my hands in animation
smash a vase or two against the wall
release the real animal rage that I feel
that you have your own mind and your own will

but how could I?
first of all, I pride myself on my high thinking
I can’t descend to those petty vibrations
that will only destroy me in the end

But, the real reason
are your big brown eyes
those deep hues
of which I have a tendency to fall into
whenever they linger too long on mine
oh, why can’t we intertwine?
and be so close that we forget we’re dying
just for a second or two, at least?

the sun is splicing through the blinds
in neatly descending rays
casting parallels of shadow and light
across the bed

the leaves whirl outside the windowpane
the branches rustle in the late afternoon breeze
reminding me of the lucid dream I had on the bed we shared together on the floor
I was flying through the constellations
at incredible speeds
It felt so real at the time.

if you won’t come away with me
if you won’t let me stay
I won’t hold it against you
I won’t cast you away.

the freedom of choice is a gift (I respect your choice)
and I love the freedom of this life too dearly
I love the sunrises and the sunsets too dearly
I see the light in me seeing the light in you too clearly
to ever make light of the profundity of this

this trip
what a trip
and if we’re not on it together
then I’ll pass you on the highway
separate loads
with separate courses
in the twilight
I’m so glad to have seen you
for a moment in the headlights.

Something happens every night at sunset. Blue turns to yellow. Hot fluorescent pink and red. Do you watch the sunset every night like I do?

I want to chase you like I want to chase the sun across the sky. All the way to Oklahoma and across New Mexico, pink mountains and ochre deserts. And then to the ocean, dazzling light on every wave. I'll chase the sun all around the earth and never live in darkness. One perpetual morning. A fresh cup of coffee that never goes stale.

And then somehow it flutters open again. The memory of the way you made me feel; the way I felt; that it's all so fleeting after all. Why do people go away?

The creek runs heavy in spring. Rushing, rushing, rushing. But, I can't place my finger on what the stream is, after all. Each particle moving so fast---it's gone before I can perceive it. A current, moving in a constant state of change.

I stared too long at the stream last week and that night I dreamt it as clear as day. I dream of you, too, sometimes. My face buried in your neck. You smell like a memory. Like an illusion.

Now the moon is full like the street lamp. This is the hour when parents get scared and call you in. Every shadow plunged to deep velvety blues. The smell of grass on my trousers. Crickets singing up the stars. Am I safe in this moment? Am I safe here?

We're laughing. It's the moment the laugh rises. I want to reach out and put you in my pocket before the release. Before it's over. Please don't go.

This. This is craving.

Love is something very very least expected. Love is letting go. Love is the exact opposite of the fear of losing. Love is wherever you are, wherever I am, cool and calm and going with the flow.