we are soaking wet, we tumble into the tent, naked and hot and so wet.
we giggle as the air clings to our bare skin.
we are trapped in our cave and have never been more free.
nothing else can matter.
not the hot dogs in the rain, now roasting for no one
not the man mourning his dwindling fire, a standoff with Mother
nothing else could matter.

we are in our cave until we aren’t and that is all that matters.
no cigarettes to be smoked,
no drugs to be sniffed ,
no ***** to be drunk,
only two giggle girls gone calm.
so calm and so serene and so alive
no Man matters
just two beautiful women flowing with their moon in the moonlight.
just laying and giggles and.
oh i hope that rain doesn’t stop.
cause we have gone mad
we’ve forgotten all the bad and sad and
what it means to be self conscious and
how to be cool and what about the economy.

and we’ve remembered what rain feels like.
and we’ve remembered how to be rain.
because we are wet and smiles and fluid and warm and perfect.
we are perfectly rain.
and this is my place.

we left all hope and fear and desires
and hot dogs and tampons outside the cave.
and **** tampons.
we are rain and we are flowing.
and the cave made rules:
what is outside the cave stays outside,

especially tampons.

the cave is for flowing and flowers,
and we are naked and wet and ha.ha.ha. hot
and have never been more free.

and in that moment i’ve actually forgotten
that outside this tent is not my place,
our cave led me to the faerie land of our tent
and i’ve never been more in love
with the idea that this could be my place.