Dream Money

I'll dance alone in blue cowboy boots
and denim fits right in all the best places

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Picnics, ponies, long days, longer nights: summer and I can't seem to shake it.


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I am mad about my tits and ass
in the basic ways of they tell lies about the way I think from the inside out

Feeling top forty country these days and wondering if it's time for me to dip out of life for the wilderness, BBQs, cold beer, snake bite kits.

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I believe in that kind of love
sunsets
these dreams

I've cultivated
(let them grow, grow, grow; they take time to germinate, bear fruit)

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wanting at times the quick release (hot metal, fresh angry scars)
but would settle for dream money
or a motorbike of the German variety

**

afternoon and evenings dripping with food cooked on a grill, eaten outside, cold beverages taste better when they're drank in the shade. I am thinking that next weekend or the weekend after is the father's day picnic down in Sonoma County. I'd like to go. It's father's day weekend and damn have I always had nothing but good times there.

I have been thinking about Aaron these days and the parts of me that have changed, that had to change. This is a during, just after, now reflection on myself. The strange way that I needed him to be here now. I mean I needed that experience, those hands wrapped around my throat, tight; I needed him to distrust my every word; to show me how fragile the foundation of my being was.

That fragment that catches the edge of your peripheral vision that's me now. I am all shook up and the water is deep.

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