while
venting,
she texted
the wrong phone,
then
back peddled,
it was kind of fun
to watch..
for awhile-
awkward laughs,
and though it
stung..
you’re always
forgiven.
skiddin’ on
death valley freeway–
top
propped,
sun glowing down
our backs–
burning in
a good
way..
or so we
say.
dropped
out..
jumped
on..
then fell
out-
still
holding on,
ride never
stops-
whether on
or not,
whether free or
caught.
filling the
chair-
but not really
there..
are better places
to be,
like laid
out
by
placid
sea.
stick to the
topic-
glued to a
screen
blurs true
vision
of less hectic
scenes,
pick the best
option-
let others
down,
how are thoughts
heard so
loud..
without making
a sound?
we meet beneath
sheets
to breathe
same air..
to reach same
heights..
to see each
other–
without
light.
butter drips from
tender fingers,
salty skin for
rolling in-
on picnic
sunday,
by the river,
lovers on a late
morn swim.
shake me like
a soda
can,
then aim and
open-
refreshing
sting,
oh the surprise
in their
eyes..
and a spritz
of lemon.
dandelion
yellow,
in sky’s the
eye
that never
blinks,
should be feeling
mellow-
yet all i do
is think
of more vivid ways
to capture
nature’s
cheer
in words that can’t
compare
to being
here.
storyteller, do share
another-
while i fade into
slumber
deep..
sleep once the
stranger..
finds me
weak.
hands in the garden 
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