Not With My Mouth

    I don't hate this city. Even when it is all consuming and the water starts to fill over the edges of my brain- there's no way I could hate it. When the winter is bitter and moldy maybe I curse the pothole'd paths but I never ever hate it. Just because something is harsh and ugly a few months out of the year doesn't mean it's all bad. I have my volcanic eruptions but I'm a nice girl. This city deserves some slack. The sun is out and I get to leave it for a day. There are worse grounds to size up. 

    I love this city and I love to leave it. The ocean wailed like a mourning mother, reaching blindly for her baby. The pull of the sea air and the yearning toward the most silent beckon. I needed to get out and I needed it to be with someone who's so good that I'd pick their company over running naked to the coast alone. We ran together. It was better that way and I knew it'd be.

    I write about love so much because I'm just in it. There's no perverted morphing of my experience into anything other than what it is. When I am in love it is all love. The ocean singing for a pair louder than for a stand alone woman. All the starfish in the world have told me so. I've got my autonomy, my solitary visions, but I'm glad to have someone so good witnessing it, too. Saying that I'm a good way to be. Believing it. 

    I stood at the gaping mouth of the water and let the liquid run through my shoes. My breath felt wiser. Time tells me everything. I know I know nothing but love. Love of God and how they're there dancing in every drop. Love of Self even though that's nothing much. Nothing but something to lose. I love leaving the city and I love leaving myself. I'm not tethered to anything but an unitchable hunch that I've got something to say. Not with my mouth.