the mood of my thought
so similar to my sleepsignals before coffee.
The very cloak of quiet
wrapped around my face
my smile the only glimmer of sun
in a partly cloudy morning
my words clipped like my nails
and folded in my lap.
The pending transaction I have with the sky
should crack me open like honeydew,
the moment feasting upon me like a hungry animal
but you won’t find in me a single tear
not a glimmer of tremor
or a hiccup of “nope”.
This day was always inevitable
the eve of my sure enough to encourage
and urge me straight to the lip of “jump”.
This is how I know my company is great
I can be stuck in traffic the entire way
and feel like the ride wasn’t long enough.
I can feel the wind getting warmer
as I descend from the sky to the ground
my mouth gaping a silent scream
and then a screaming smile.
The food settles my stomach
the mocha washes the seawater from my mouth
the surf beckons me deep like a warm lover
before throwing me over its shoulder
and knocking me head over feet.
I can hear the heartbeat from your shoulder
the breath in your lungs through the sand
each movement of your lounging body hums
and I am drawn to the back of your neck
the swell of her chest
the trifecta touching of our minds.
I picture me pillowing between you like I felt in that plane
one snug to my lap and the other folded around my back
whispering to me nice things.
Instead I sleep on the damp towel, the wind kissing my ear
the sun rubbing light into my skin
the day yawning for more.
I can think as each hand propellers outward in the lot
behind the boardwalk
how lucky I am to be the third
in the running chatter of this day
the crunch of a dill pickle salivating my tongue
the tickle of nerves when my soul trips and falls
onto the table next to the sandwiches
the endearing moments of silence pressed into our palms
like napkins we press to our lips.
I can lounge in the darkness, watching the sleepy sink into your shoulders
the liquid excitement drawing from our cups as we sip from the seductive screen
one gleaming 120-minute ride of madness
one full season of summer compressed into one world of day
and I am living.
Step into the wind
blink three times for each season of memory
each moment you were comforted with the thought
that you would someday take this first step.
Wring out the remaining stuck
the matter of shoulds and should-nots
embrace the arms that guided you here
those beaming souls of light and leisure
loving you the entire day through.
Recognize an altar as it flames
smile and sing that soft refrain
your story has never stopped,
Your pen as strong as your needle and thread.