July breaks open. a thick hot blanket of air hangs heavily over the valley. the potential for oppressive heat is sweltering. instead I think about the end of the day and how ill slip into the cool of the creek and hang myself out to dry.
I am working endless days. the languorous nights are skin and sweat and bodies finding creative ways to touch innocuously. laid out on picnic blankets surrounded by empty bottles of wine and half turned glasses legs and arms and bellies melt against the earth. we are all too young too hot too blurred to remember names. I light another joint and lay back staring through the olive trees. 
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Thank you Steve, You are also welcome to follow my blog.
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