i want to be in a place where the shady trees play in the silver breeze. wind curing around the house. wind chime clapping a song.
where the summer heat drys and cracks the soil to dust catching on your feet when you stomp trough it.but in the shade, dampness.moss fluffy earthy on top of wet cold clay,lily of the valley here in the shade, so sweet it makes you sick.a garden off accomplishment.
every morning i wake up to blue skies. pull myself from my warm bed, plush soft so soft giving but firm. smells like me, and smells like her. he bed is pallets rough holding the mattress, smooth for the headboard porous cinder blocks holding it up, denim quilt thrown across the bed worn and warm.
i drag my self out of bed across uneven bumpy floor toes drag across the smooth but uneven ground...cold.
my hands drag along the wall on the walk down the stairs. cold wall, warm glass windows smooth, but my finger catches on it all the way down. creaking steps bolted to the wall defying gravity. at the bottom cool cement.
the shower runs to warm the water, sharp sound of a faucet on in the other wise silent house. water scorching on one side frigid on the other,steam a blessing to skin striped of warm pajamas, filling the stall with the smell of lavender soap,lemon perfume, and hair dye.
through the floor walls and halls, she gets up and the bed creeks. short flight down the stairs and hard blows of bass in the radio fill the house.
hey you with the pretty face welcome to the human race
when i pick the brush and the paste from their pegs on the bright orange board i can hear the cry of a running machine getting beaten with full foot falls. a wonderful morning. all mine.
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