recently

a push from a pedal and

the wind in my hair

reflections gleaming through the blackness 'round my eyes

shielded by sun beams and dark screens

he moves ahead and waits

i make excuses and pretend

like i know what i am

doing

and where i am

going

almost struck by a passing van

quick lane changes and

there isn't room for me on

this vessel

i should stick to my feet

and the ground

beneath them

there is a reason

i don't climb fences

painted brown projects switch

from one thing to another

i keep having another

hey look! it's still a bag!

folded papers and green rectangles

too much paint

to bear the weight

new heights with him

(and him)

and he is on with me

love-ins nightly

and hate-ons daily

at least i have

the night

on my side

i know i have been distant

from them and the spouts that came

so naturally

she is writing again

(or letting me read it)

and so here i am

(its all i need

apparently)

can't get this weekend out of my head

the memory is fading though from

a scary hallow of unidentifiable words

to a fuzzy warmness of green and blue

and 14-hole boots

with no laces

fall must be here because

i am painting again

and the sounds that escaped my (our)

heart(s) that time

and that time,

and that time

and that time

and that time

and that time

and that time

may fifteenth and

june first and

june fourteenth and

onward

stand static in my ears now

bitten fingers treading

water no longer

nails growing with paint beneath them

our eyes collective

static sounded images

of what was

and what is

and what will be

hey, i'm glad i know you.

and for you, i'm sorry i haven't been around.