Sunday 19 April 2015

Journal # 04.19.15

 I think we could make real good friends and maybe more. You can hit dandelions off the front lines with an iron, and I will yell 'Four!' We can cheat our taxes together, itemize our weekend getaways, then commingle our refunds for more weekend getaways. It's okay if you drink Diet Coke and I prefer Coke. I don't care that much about soda anymore, to cross you off my list. Ours is such a compelling tryst. Don't you need me to rub suntan lotion on your back? I was the model fingerpaint artist in elementary, when you were in juvenile penitentiary. Whose gonna do you right, if not me? Whose back will I climb, to reach the branches of the old oak tree? Summer come and we will be sailing off planks into the dreamy submerge. Then come winter, our voices collect to chime the elemental dirge. Spring is here, and the trees are expression, shaking their leaves in decided direction. I lay my head upon your knee in the meadow. You twist my hair with such care. Your favorite season, I want only to live through you and your memory. In your mom's tummy so many years ago, and how warm you became, safe and vacuum-packed for delivery, on that special lovely day we now share, you are with me, when I make your favorite dish, the curry stew, and I love you until the Fall, when we can drop off our clothes under the threat of snowed in, and forget it all.

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