Summer is finally descending upon my limbs, and skin, and cells: the sweat beading between the fine hairs on my arms, and an unquenchable thirst just behind my tongue.
I scraped against the grass today in a field that smelled of smoking barbecue, and dusty ground. Pitching myself endlessly against the sky, I played frisbee for the first time since I was a very small girl.
I loved it. And did not realize how much I missed the sun.
-going to Arizona
-learning to drive a stick shift
-carrying bullets in my wallet
-offroading in an ATV
-bowling (and getting two strikes)
-talking a drunken man out of playing with tear gas
-sleeping beneath a loaded gun
...in a haunted house.
My room is a shambles, except for one bare nook that I have cleaned away. The wood has been polished and shines in the diffused light spilling through my dusty window. Several rocks are scattered across its surface; a tiny trove of precious gems. A small silver cylinder contains my hopeful prayers. It is my shrine to space that I don't have at the moment.
The rest of my room is overrun with clothes, and books, and other miscellany: outdated mail, hair pins, shells, computer cables. My two bedroom apartment is overrun in general, with five people, two cats, and their assorted belongings.
I am craving naked, open air.
Cradled under a canopy of butterflies, I stretched my body, coated with grit and earth and air, beneath the last rays of afternoon sunlight.
I whispered my dreams from the night before to my soldier. My confidante. He pressed them gently to his ear for a moment, before letting them flutter to the stream below.