end now

[concretekiss]

So eruptive lately. An explosion of words and wishing I knew how to hush. The sentences don't even form a single file line, but come out blazing and senseless like surrounded outlaws.
Saturday and yoga class. Our hands up in triangles, a field of strange flora. It's pretty to look out at, like synchronized swimming. For one floor twist our feet were near eachothers' shoulders. I heard a lady whisper to reassure her neighbor "I pumice," and then a ripple of giggles. Sometimes the toxin release sets free unexpected emotions, like air pockets under the ocean, abyssal zone activity in the spine, plates divide. At the end of class our instructor read some silly affirmation about being a treasure to the world when we are good to ourselves, and thinking of how I wasn't much of a treasure I began to tear. I am a mess, to the world.

That afternoon I swam like Jaws was after me in attempts to kick out my excess affection. Reading in the half-shade, sore legs burning in the sun, hair flying in the crazy wind, a sail.

Elise and I watched a time travel romance, and saddest one I've seen yet. We cried and hugged and petted eachother and it was good to have an excuse to loosen. Instantaneous, multiple year time travel requires such faith. You and I are time traveling right now, but slow enough that it isn't so terrifying. I notice some travelers in movies are provoked by a photo from the past, a beguiling grin in a curio shop that spoke to them, resounding in places they did not know existed so much that they must set off on long and perilous journeys, to find that face. But they really didn't seem to have anything better to do at the time.

Sunday was to see a good friend, to eat ribs messily, throw horse-shoes, shoot cans off logs like southern girls, but we didn't chew any tobacco, or wear straw hats.

We found a bird nest in an overturned canoe, the babies blind but listening intently for mother, and two lizards who died fighting each other (< do NOT click that link if you are squeamish) in the shed. Both their bodies scarred with teeth marks, over territory. It wasn't the death that was as distressing as the story their bodies told.

And (ugh) then this:

Your tender Portabello mushroom ears
illuminated in morning sunlight
rise slowly with your smile when it appears
my trembling beacon, in dentures so bright
Like fresh cauliflower your nose doth bloom
Your whiskers white as dandelion seed
The luckiest dog in the bingo room
your embrace is sweeter than Ovaltine
Within each wrinkle my fond kisses hide
like iris petals in chapter books pressed
Steady as the hum of your wheelchair glide
are days my devotion you shall possess
and to this stubborn heart you will belong
my love is thousands of pacemakers strong

Sonnets are hard you guys. I have to use lesser syllabled words. It doesn't fit my work. Sentences must fold and contort into iambic pentameter like camels through needle eyes. To think Shakespeare wrote 154. No wonder he had to switch phrases up like Yoda.