one.
for about two and a half years now, i’ve had this lasting feeling.
i want the waves of sound to crawl through my body endlessly.
the idea of being suspended like dust in air, carelessly existing.
like the feeling you get right before sleep when you’re lulled by
the sound of an empty room, or a breeze that graces your skin.
or the slight touch from the hand of a lover who knows just how
to settle your nerves. i want to walk around with this feeling in
my head. with the sound on repeat. it would be like my eyes
were always closed tight. like i had a visual loop on repeat.
this is how the universe must feel. endlessly pulsating for as
far as i can imagine, or maybe can’t, because it’s too big and
wide. just lull me to sleep, like i were on a train, like i were in
a cradle just the same.
two.
we packed up the trunk with what we could fit.
we certainly had to rely on our friends to fill the gaps.
i knew the roads that would take me there were promising,
though they would sprawl and sprawl.
i can’t even begin to describe the faces i saw and the people i met,
but they each hold a special weight in my heart,
for opening their homes and floors to us.
it’s always a blur sometimes,
but the bike ride for nearly two hours was realistically surreal.
we stopped and paused for breath in between long strides and sprints.
we finally ditched the bikes in tall grass at about three or four am,
and climbed (illegally) under the fence to then climb to the top of the old fort.
i think it was rooted out of the civil war,
but i can’t ultimately remember what owen told me.
i recall the blank stare of the stars looking down on me.
they weren’t necessarily glaring, but welcoming.
i was laying on my back, just watching the sky move slowly above me,
but then,
the rest of the night doesn’t matter nearly as much as the tide pool
the morning had brought upon the small hidden roadside beach,
and how indescribably wordless it left me.
