I want this to go places.

I want this to go places. I want the whole shebang. No missteps, no casualties, no red tape. Nothing but you and me and free sailing. I know where you are but I know what it’s like to sit across from someone and know they’re looking for anyone. I don’t feel that with you, that you’re looking for anyone, a body, a warmth, a comfort. I will never make you comfortable- that’s not how this real thing works. This real thing works because it keeps us in motion, not quite at a loss but never in rigid lockstep. You will never know me exactly but that’s why I’ll love you- because you’ll still be interested after all those years, and interesting. You’ll still make my face flush and glow. People see it already, the glow, and it feels like I’ve known you a million years. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed that when we’re still, sitting, the picket fence goes up around us, and the garden and the children run laughing by and then we’re at a dinner table surrounded by friends in a toast to our love, the one we’ve shared for years but never really returned to the universe- we’ve held it between ourselves as if it couldn’t be merely on loan for our lifetime. As if it couldn’t be greater than the two of us.

 

This is too much to tell you right now. I may lay it all out on the line sometimes but at heart I’m a realist, I realize. Your free will is as strong as mine, though I love when you use it to pin my arms up beside me. It’s a gesture no-one’s ever made, it’s a gesture that makes me feel as if I would never need to ask another question for the rest of my life. This is so stupid, this writing. Putting things on paper for you to see and judge, when you know them even if I haven’t said them out loud. *Sigh* And I’m drunk off of wine and you’ll see it sometime, the way I am when I’m drunk- restless and sometimes morbid in my assessments. I could convince myself right now that you’ll never love me but I don’t want to do this, I want to see what happens when we collide, maybe fireside into a burst of raw threads peeling each other apart and meeting again. Can you feel it twining together? I send that out sometimes, a curly tendril to brush your cheek as you sleep, to make you think of me. It’s not sorcery, it’s so much more plain, a no-frills way to tell you that I think about you at the very base of my matter. I’d think you could dig that, if there were anything to dig- but I’ve left it out in the open for you, a rare and randy assortment.

 

See what you’ve inspired? A grandiose self-punishment. You’ve inspired a scoff. No, that’s not fair- you’ve inspired so much more, but sobriety is a funny thing in that I spend most of my days in concert with it and most of my nights, even, in concert with it and so to read this sober will be a dull headache because it will feel true. And because I just never know when to stop.

 

Back, then, to what I want. I want to be your arm candy and your warm body and your crossword puzzle dictionary. I want to be your side-by-side and sometimes upside-down. I want to have you cornered. I want to come out unscathed, but I want someday to fight for you. Make things plain for me- give me something to cry about. It’s the only way I ever really live, and when the salt dries on paper it spells out the very least of my tragedies. I’m so compliant but that has never disturbed me, it’s only when I wish for something. 

dream date

unfettered, uncomplicated, but overcaffeinated

and vainly hoping that you won't bore me

i circle back to starting points

vague fixtures

go 'round and 'round

'til i end where?

the where doesn't matter

except i am alone

untangled

streamlined

and thinking what i really want, then

is not to be bored or boring

calcified, captive, corrupt

so i involve myself

these aren't dreams, these are stories!

and I am so self-involved

but in a buttery sense

frictionless

and sometimes so simple

as to be a dot- harmless, clean

clean and sleeping.

disembody

on being stone cold

and calibrated

as not to forgive

or concede

i foster dissent in your absence

and won't be touched unprepared-

caught at wrong angles

curled 'round any finger

and you felt it at the start-

my stony finger

now pulling the trigger

It's Easy

I want to yell out in the very best way, and I want it to rip you awake. Cosmically speaking, do you know what I mean?

Do you feel the tender pulse that craves its way across the states, and stares you down in a lovely crowded space?

Have you seen us on a city park bench and thought "It's you, it's you, it's you..."?

Road trip superlatives

Most unexpected place to see cute guys: Maiya's Restaurant in Marfa, TX

Hottest temperatures: Austin, TX

Biggest storms (and consequently, best sleep): Montana

Highest # of crosses on the side of the road: New Mexico

Most unexpected place to see tumbleweeds: Washington

Highest # of trucks per capita: Texas

Best thrift stores: Portland

Favorite shopping: Austin & Portland

Cheapest gas: Little Rock, AK

Easiest drive: West Texas

Best hiking: Yosemite

Freshest air: Redwoods Natl. Park & West Texas

Most scenic drive: Pacific Coast Highway

Worst wind: Washington

Slowest drivers: Wisconsin

Ugliest town: Eureka, CA.

Best place to see the night sky: Wyoming & Montana

Highest number of motorcycles congregated in one place: South Dakota

Highest number of tweakers: Eureka, CA and Butte, MT.

Worst state to drive through: South Dakota

Highest number of taxidermists: Wyoming

Most visible border control: New Mexico

Most unexpected place to see a high # of foreigners: Mesa Verde Natl. Park

Creepiest places to be alone at dusk: Redwoods & Badlands Natl. Park

truth

imagine for a second that she's laying

A Foundation

she's smoothing with her hands

like a sheet to cover a bare bed

or bare bones

On the move to Portland

At this point I've accepted my restlessness, my gypsy tendencies and the habit I have of remaining in movement- even if that movement is an eddy, slowly swirling and small. Have you ever come across something lovely and immediately known it would make you leave everything that you had grown comfortable with? Have you had the sinking feeling that you would have to leap for it, like leaping for a moving train? And that by leaping you would give the rest away?

I hate the between-ness of knowing one place and knowing another. I hate shouldering the stress of finding something temporary until I can replace it with something permanent, wondering whether I can make it to the first paycheck without falling back on someone that I never intended to burden. I hate that I'm still insecure enough that I feel I have to impress people, that I'm being put to the test and that failure is somehow a possibility.

But I live to explore and to learn and to conquer and I have never before felt so at home somewhere so quickly. I will thrive here, and if there's any evidence of that it's the fact that here is the bud of a blog that I have threatened for a long time to write. A tiny victory in a great adventure. Have you found yours?