our days before we knew

on the way home from mahone bay, we stop at a roadside flea market and watch offbeat vendors with the knick knacks of their trade. tea cups, war memorial metals, books long-bought and never read. pennies the pound, two dollars a dozen; this smells of basements and summer haze and the cheap claptrap blues.

beside a bridge and below oaktrees,
i have found a new & secret land.
it's a place of tiger-striped rocks,
giant ants, blackberries, acorns, lichen.
if i ever need to be away,
we will bring blankets here
and lie side by side on the rocks: us
& trains & the glow of city stars.

i read in a book that love is arms open so let's hug like we're airplanes.

the boy who sits on his front door stoop is moving & he just wants to know my name.
black cats that cross my path just want to play. and i want to walk forever and to listen.

us of the rainy day roadtrips

.

the tide goes out & the bottom of the ocean becomes a planet...

you surrender to the sleeping

music: hold on, hold on - neko case
books: shop girl, steve martin (also scott pilgrim 2)

hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on...
today my horoscope told me to undo the mistakes of april but i think my failings have undone themselves before me, already and so simply.
visitors and the ones who will stay begin to filter into the solitary spaces of my summer. it has been a season without finale and without much flourish. but completion is false comfort and the tangent lines spread out & forward & beyond with such rare, wondrous potential. potentially. it's time to start telling my small stories again.

i am almost almost here.