The rain finds us hiding
miniscule streams dribble liquid strands
onto
and around us.
We climb slow from a cotton wove
water soaked
lean to.
Sweet moments bathed in anticipation
and sun sparkling low above the rocks
and water waves crashing.
I'll paint you over red with blush
clumsy at the helm
hands covered in rainbows.
Childhood innocence when they hand you the pallet
and you discard your brushes
in favor
of fingers.
I am primitive.
Soaked through supple flesh
to the bone
we dry our clothes in the rays of the sun.
God to the heathens.
We lounge exposed on the rocks and washed up weeds
smiling shut eyed at each other
and that fiery eye in the heavens.
The smell of rain
cleansing
and you
your perfume
lingering.

I wish to breathe like this forever
**or not at all.

Listening to old ***** spirituals
loud and proud
with a dedicated skinhead
in the drivers seat.

You slip another excuse from your blood red lips.
It slithers snake like
flicking its tonge
staring with never blinking eyes
as it climbs up excitedly
strangling me with its obvious deceit.
I accept it regretfully
and slip slowly into blackness as it chokes the air from my pride.
Sure,
next time,
with that salesman's grin on your face.
I just bought a 1982 with a cracked block
and 25% interest.
That giddy smirk on your complexion
it shakes the limp hand of my shameless ignorance.
Still I feel no bliss.
I'd love to see you again you say
bagging up your things
and shaking with anticipation
at the freedom beyond my sight.
My authenticity suddenly becomes pathetic
mirroring your statement
onto a fleeing back.
Now,
my days are spent watching walls
and contemplating loneliness.
The white begins to swirl
pitted pimples capturing old filth.
Its monotone reaches to swallow me whole in the silence
some still blanket grasping.
I'll let go.
It's not that hard to ignore reality
until the cigarette cherry climbs its way to my finger tips
fiery teeth biting.

*Your back,
stay for a while,
Its not like things could get worse than this.

One thing
a friend says
spells determination
adventure
and ambition
into the air.
Like popping a smoke filled balloon above a group
you feel the words
float
sink
into and over
everyone.
Those conspiring glances
and shining smiles.
Again into the night they say.
Again into the unknown
and enthralling.
Again buzzing with anticipation.
Feverish joy;
bursts
like glass shattering in the dark.
Again we dart out with the brilliance
and danger
of a thousand shattered pieces.
*ALIVE.