Filmy
With you, it seems like the movie could keep going.
And, just like that it feels like I’ve known you forever.
Eight
She always thought that when love hit her, it would strike her not steal from her.
~ the eight yr old pig tailed girl in her mickey sweater
Excerpts and Rough Drafts
He stood, with the mike in his hand, eyes slowly shifting up, landing upon her, gazing at her – she dressed in creamy beige, calm glory. Him, eyes completely content.
Let me tell you about the first time I met my wife. It’s not the time she’s thinking of. It was seven years earlier. She doesn’t know about this time; lord help me. It was 2015. I was at Dynamite with my friends, looking for a shirt for my brother’s girlfriend. The boys, of course, all complaining – why can’t you buy her socks? Nike shoes? Yo, did you see the new Airs?
She was with her girls, two girls. I knew they were her girls, they’re here in the crowd today. Shout out to our loves, N and N. Drake played, in the background, “Know Yourself” (sorry if that insults anyone). The song started – she started while her friends were looking through racks of clothes. She was leading – as usual, oblivious about how contagious she continues to be. Her head started bobbing, her hands started moving, she started giggling. And, I began witnessing the Carlton move, on repeat. Her moves were infectious. Her friends, laughed outright, and like a wave, started imitating her. Next thing I knew, the retail workers started smiling; they started bobbing; their hands started moving – swaying from side to side. She, all the while giggling, oblivious to everyone around her, to the night club she’d started. She was just so clearly happy to see people moving. She was just so clearly happy to see people smiling. She was just so clearly happy to see people — free. In one minute, she’d turned Dynamite, the store for the business professional, into the hottest, goofiest, most bizarre store on the block. And, I, paused, stunned, young, and I prayed. Let me know a soul like hers…. #to be continued #hopeslive.
Circles and Stuff
When you surround yourself with true love, love returns to you.
Her Spirit’s a Free Bird
Don’t know why, but it’s Feb 10, and it finally, finally feels like she can go back. Like she can be in a dream again. Like she can see the imprints of stars in the sky again; like she wants to breathe in the rain again. Airy rain. Dirt rain. Delicate, dense rain. Like, like, like, like… again home belongs in her heart.
Her home is plaited with others’ needs, with the wants of simplicity; simpler times. And, her gift is her heart to you. Because, innocence is all she clings to and, honestly, it’s all she understands. Complexity complicates her mind.
She sees the dirt. She feels, oh, she feels the dirt in her hands again. She’s drowning light in the moment again. Every sensory delight arriving – finally arriving.
P.S. Please don’t step on her gift again; please don’t cage her again.
Because, P.S. Her spirit’s a free bird again.
She Said Something
She said this, and I just stared, like really?
But, secretly, I hoped too.
“I don’t who he is. I haven’t met him yet, but I know he’s out there somewhere and I know I’ll know him one day. He’s arriving, or maybe I am. But, I do hope he’s doing alright. I hope he’s making moves forward, step by step. I hope he knows I’m here too and that one day, as we keep putting one foot in front of the other, our feet will finally touch. We’ll do that beginning thing, we’ll finally meet.”
A Lover of Rain – Stream of Consciousness
Why do the cherished moments, the innocent seconds keep fleeing our fingertips? Or, is it only me who misses childhood? Is it only me who misses Paddle Pop in the rain?
I’m ok with being dirt. After all, dirt graced with rain is a scent indescribable, a scent laced with memories and joy, but that doesn’t mean dirt isn’t hurt each time it’s stomped on.
Just Typing 