The American flag blows gently in the late summer nighttime breeze while I was visiting a friend’s home and saw this while walking up to his door.
Going to the park. Autumn. The water. Running. Taking a nap on the couch with all the windows open on a breezy day. Frank Sinatra. Driving down the interstate at dusk. Dusk. The idea of a meal I’ll never create. The idea of a place that doesn’t exist. Creating a place that doesn’t exist yet. Sleeping naked. Foggy days. Small towns on the east coast. Taking a bath on a cool day with the windows open. Nice people. Sweaters. The smell of coffee on a cool morning. I just like cool weather. “Local Hero.” Boats. Good Italian food in small Italian restaurants.
Midnight stroll downtown. Seeing reflections of the past and future. Stop to talk to the latest homeless guy (maybe woman) and toss a dollar or two. Rusty fall afternoon, backpack full of the store’s cheapest beer, hitting the frisbee golf course. Marigolds in bloom, trees putting on the fight to keep awake, or to sleep. Summer’s giving up the fight. Indigo Girls signing about the human experience, playing from their souls. Window down, burning leaves, and no care in the world. The light falling on my lovers cheek, exposing imperfections and character. Spending all day in bed. Conversation of the heart. Lying on the hood of my car watching meteor showers, misquotes nipping at my skin. The love of life. Hits me so hard.