breathe

i can breathe again.
softly closing my eyes, holding hands, you whisper into my ears, you are regal you said.
i can breathe again.
with you there is a joy, an ineffable desire to give to me, life.
i can breathe again.
i don't want to leave your side now. you are in me.

a woman's role

does a woman belong at the feet of her master, ready to fulfill every whim?
does a woman belong at the foot of a mountain, never allowed to see heaven?

how can i change what has come before me, all the monstrous places we've been?
enough to make things better than they were before, enough to let light in.

morty

life is spinning all around me. i hear cars and trees and everything in between people fighting and fucking and eating. blue skies, gray skies, getting high and noticing all the marks on my body. i don't know how they got there these scars, burns, tattoos, kiss marks. a ladybug flew on my yellow shorts out of nowhere. seven beauty marks. the last one i saw was in ashland. i'm thinking of you too, kiddo. thanks for saving me like that. i'll see you around. i think i'll call this ladybug morty. i think i'll remember you. maybe morty is attracted to the color of my shorts. this red ladybug is attracted to my yellow shorts. that's interesting to me, and i say it out loud. you're red, morty, but you love yellow. it makes me smile.

big sur

we met some people on the side of the road and followed them to the edge of the cliff where we slept that night after drinking wine and sharing stories. i think they were from santa cruz. although, not originally. the waves cast their spell on us moving up and down, through my soul and out into theirs like lava transforming mountains many years ago. we talked about that even, it was only me and her then, we talked about rock formations and continental shifts and shelves. she was from jersey. we discussed the difference between jersey boys and california boys. california boys are dashing, you said. they hold the door for you because they want to. your name was gillian. it was pretty in that moment on the cliff, you and i sharing names and stories and telling of the people that we had loved. this is life, look at me, we live in exciting times. she was a hitchhiker. we talked about that and about how people should really help each other more and how hitchhiking was the perfect paradigm for what's wrong in the world. too many cynics and wackos. i think i was in heaven the whole time we spent together. free, liberated. in these moments we shared over wine and drugs and stories and laughter, i felt something i thought had died.