notes from the weekend.

12 string guitars and music becoming faith itself, becoming a dimension we could stand on, and oxygen we could breathe. (more on this later)

kendrick lamar on the subway and secret smiles. tap dancers and hope.

cold hands, shaking in his arms, or maybe i was just shivering at the smell of cigarettes between lips.
throwing credit cards in the air, birthdays being the excuse.

real targets don’t exist, but hearts do. so aim there, please.

deepest chocolate cake, coconut milk, claiming you don’t like it but eating it anyway
and memorizing rap lyrics on the long way home.
dancing downstairs in restaurant kitchens (dear health inspectors, grade THIS).
all black everything.

creme brulee in white paper bags, plastic spoons.
sneaking bites of butternut squash straight out of the oven.
racks on racks on racks
burning my mouth,
it’s worth it anyway.

the winter brings a deep feeling of isolation, even when i’m surrounded by people.
and you are not around to hold me when the cold settles on my skin

i talk about brass and woodwind
we make jokes about things we can blow on.
lately i haven’t been able to breathe enough to blow.
carry on.

the bartender breaks a glass while making the drink he bragged about. the air smells like orange slices and white teeth.

i worry about him touching my back when it is moist with the sweat from running to get to where he is. to get there faster. to see the smile in his eyes faster. life is too short to walk.

“i’m nervous to dance with someone who dances so well.”
“how do you know i dance?”
“i’ve never seen you walk anywhere. you never walk, you dance across the room and down sidewalks.”

late night concerts and hands on waists. beer spilled on my jeans. he bought us a round to apologize.
the crowd throbbed and smiled together.
long train rides. legs on legs on legs. looking into eyes. breaking rules.

arguing about the existence of wild turkeys in Taiwan.
time is relative. 
early morning runs. long, lazy afternoons. looking in the direction of the world where i know you may be. wondering if you see me too.

love as a dimension
love transcending time and space
perhaps the past is a canyon you can walk into.

i cannot believe in love. i need to walk farther into the canyon to find it again.

Do not go gentle into that good night

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