Cold surprise to a warm tongue.
12.14.17 – End-up
I got to watch your hues yawn across the sky again this morning. The blue silk curtain could only hang so far down before that peach light made it disappear from view. The shore and sky were mixing behind that cloth with no separation of bodies and no distinction between tones, but once you came bounding in they split like teenagers discovered by an intruding chaperone. You’d pull that sheet back up to cover the length of your body, maybe those ruffles would bunch in greys but we were hoping for a pale appearance to be scattered throughout the soft sea.
I was always blinded when I crossed over the waves. The bridge was bouncing off the pitched tips, bucking a bit as the wind tumbled the water and ran it against your legs to reach for that same stretch. I was watching the horizon peeling back and waiting for the sheer material to break and burn off like fog spied under the heat of a heavy day. We’d journey in opposites with you rising at the odd approach of an easterly light and me always charging towards a purple darkness. We spoke in those tinted tones and only caught our images in the gasoline reflections from sunlit mirrors and off the high-rise windows of the cities we retreated to.
You left the mountain in view this time, not waiting for its blanket to separate in a mad fit of rending. The stuffing usually got caught on his crown and masked that face in monochromatic symmetry. Seeing him meant we had a wide view lined up for the day and your inching over the bed’s edge would be a slow affair. My head was swiming with all the wants of the impending weekend and your orange smile only swept me further away from the responsibilities I felt compelled to barrel towards. The colors drifted across my windshield and I watched them dreamily until everything but orbits seemed a distant wish.