1 June 2017

Life right about now

Oh what a wonderful day! Waking up feeling free, birds singing it's time to shine. Morning coffee rituals with friends in the garden. Long lost catch ups of two days not seeing each other. When coworkers turn friends turn family, 24 hours feels like a long time without hugs. Cuddles, stories, laughter. We decide who will be the bun and who will be the hot dog in the middle. Two buns make a sandwich but they will feel the cold wind on their backs. It's best to be the dog, stay warm in winter time. All with a serious face. I nearly hit the floor laughing. Life is sweet, I think.

Last night's tipsy texting tells me summer is here. My heart skips a beat all the time. Caffeine keeps me going but everything happens with a shiver. I burnt my face in that first sun. In burnt the burn the next day and now I'm like a snake shedding skin but still smiling. Some days I wake up feeling like a wild woman, ready to take over the world. Dancing naked to yeasayer eating chocolates in the shower, all the good stuff all at the same time. Finding a forgotten taco like a treasure in the fridge. More coffee. More shivers. Wearing only glitters. Half a day off and I'm having a one woman party. I write, trying to pour my excitement for life into words. I kiss the paper, make ink stains on hands and cheeks.

Strawberries ripen just by looking at them. I close my eyes and smell memories of summer fields of joy, cheap champagne picnics, swaying hips on festival grounds. I taste the salt of your body while swimming in the ocean. Cold water is my morning alarm. Hair still wet, slamming car doors, almost late for work. I see myself in your sunglasses and smile every time you walk past the window. 

The rain makes life less heavy, the air is clean, plants are relieved and the pavement smokes. I love the smell of rain on a hot day. I get out until my feet are muddy and my legs can't dance anymore. I've got something for you, you say and push a piece of paper in my hands. 1920s typewriter ink, fingers moving fast, mistakes are made easily so you flipped the page and there it is. A poem named Joke the Wild. Words get blurry as my eyes do too. I smile and hug and hug some more. Summer rain makes for starry skies. Coming home tastes like your words on my lips. 

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