the california republic was the end, her open ended birthplace, like a brief shower, your foot nudging mine on shadowed stairs, a passing meteor in the sky. these are things you can never know, things we claim to cherish. reaching out with our thinning imaginations that only remind us of the smell that night. she was a big sur death drop, a constant struggle between land and sea. a gang of howling seals at the bottom of a cliff haunted something inside of someone, passing it to you like a note from a world that i found myself happy in; passing it to me.
the things around me that i've been becoming, swing again as the van changes lanes, cutting through hills, closer to you. but all i see are choppy waters, my ears pop passing the bay. the dull red steel that represented my first impression of you costs me six dollars to cross, but i don't mind. i didn't know you until i felt you; the cold fog that sunk into my skin through the rushing window, moving fast through my veins, waking me up. it's the bitterness that you can acquire soaking in an entire ocean of cherry coke and emotionalism; the innards of the beast entering your city. the city you were to me, but not the even city you grew young and aimlessly angry; a dirty feather reluctantly shining in my eye.
i'm getting high on the freeway trying to picture a nirvana smiley face tattoo on your thigh; the color of your clothes. walking up sidewalks on my tippy-toes swearing that we don't have a god, setting me apart from the old tie-dyes with shopping bag arms, and young people working two jobs to say they are the bay now, they all hurry by. "too many sunshine pills," they'd say of eager feet avoiding cracks on judah and sunset. familiar streets. you seemed embarrassed when you told me you grew up with orange trees, it was then i saw in your unguarded eyes, tearing through your tough skin. a small green promise of a spontaneous truth that i found myself believing in. you said with a hoarse accent that beauty can be captured, like a tiger in a cage.
the rolling fog above the prison of past souls surrounded by water are all forgotten as two sweaty bodies sink into each other like wooden skeletons, eroding bones splinter into each other, aching for happiness.
the things around me that i've been becoming, swing again as the van changes lanes, cutting through hills, closer to you. but all i see are choppy waters, my ears pop passing the bay. the dull red steel that represented my first impression of you costs me six dollars to cross, but i don't mind. i didn't know you until i felt you; the cold fog that sunk into my skin through the rushing window, moving fast through my veins, waking me up. it's the bitterness that you can acquire soaking in an entire ocean of cherry coke and emotionalism; the innards of the beast entering your city. the city you were to me, but not the even city you grew young and aimlessly angry; a dirty feather reluctantly shining in my eye.
i'm getting high on the freeway trying to picture a nirvana smiley face tattoo on your thigh; the color of your clothes. walking up sidewalks on my tippy-toes swearing that we don't have a god, setting me apart from the old tie-dyes with shopping bag arms, and young people working two jobs to say they are the bay now, they all hurry by. "too many sunshine pills," they'd say of eager feet avoiding cracks on judah and sunset. familiar streets. you seemed embarrassed when you told me you grew up with orange trees, it was then i saw in your unguarded eyes, tearing through your tough skin. a small green promise of a spontaneous truth that i found myself believing in. you said with a hoarse accent that beauty can be captured, like a tiger in a cage.
the rolling fog above the prison of past souls surrounded by water are all forgotten as two sweaty bodies sink into each other like wooden skeletons, eroding bones splinter into each other, aching for happiness.
“i don't know why you kept asking about me,” is all i thought as I kicked the loose stones, not able to comprehend intentions among the darkened clouds. but when you said under that distorted yellow streetlight in ohio, "you decided to come..." like you were surprised, the clouds that seemed so heavy hung high but the grey sky just bluffed. my heart doesn't feel like the answer now though, beating harder in the backseat miles from there.
i'd imagine if we'd happen to bump into each other, we'd be matching aside from the blonde freckles that fell like confetti onto my pillow. i couldn't remember the sound of your voice for much longer after you left, perhaps distracted by your last simple look that weakened everything. your eyebrows sank low as the corners of your lips pulled back like an eight year old at a slingshot. i wasn't sure you'd think of me again, as you skipped a step or two down the porch, back to your van.
there was a moment minutes later, a dusty box fan blowing in my face, that i wanted to cry, i think i wanted love but not really. i stood alone, brains more scrambled then before. like dead crickets in a mason jar, quiet birds take flight in the morning sky. i don't care to recognize everyone's adult looks anymore, like some expected understanding. playing games and fucking around like anybody else; as i look out beyond the moving glass i've been glued to, i see those adults running along the bay but i'm stuck on black pen scribbled on faded receipts, oh my mind! when i drowned my eyes and saw a swine, in the feed where we hide our thoughts from things we need, tucked away in my desk, stamps and envelopes stuffed in sadder books than i could ever dream i've lived. the words i couldn't say to you unless i bumped into you, black short twins displaced in things that have already happened. we'd talk and that would be enough for me as that california sun blinds the land and the sea.
i'd imagine if we'd happen to bump into each other, we'd be matching aside from the blonde freckles that fell like confetti onto my pillow. i couldn't remember the sound of your voice for much longer after you left, perhaps distracted by your last simple look that weakened everything. your eyebrows sank low as the corners of your lips pulled back like an eight year old at a slingshot. i wasn't sure you'd think of me again, as you skipped a step or two down the porch, back to your van.
there was a moment minutes later, a dusty box fan blowing in my face, that i wanted to cry, i think i wanted love but not really. i stood alone, brains more scrambled then before. like dead crickets in a mason jar, quiet birds take flight in the morning sky. i don't care to recognize everyone's adult looks anymore, like some expected understanding. playing games and fucking around like anybody else; as i look out beyond the moving glass i've been glued to, i see those adults running along the bay but i'm stuck on black pen scribbled on faded receipts, oh my mind! when i drowned my eyes and saw a swine, in the feed where we hide our thoughts from things we need, tucked away in my desk, stamps and envelopes stuffed in sadder books than i could ever dream i've lived. the words i couldn't say to you unless i bumped into you, black short twins displaced in things that have already happened. we'd talk and that would be enough for me as that california sun blinds the land and the sea.
