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.