Our rooms decorate us
It is true
You brought with you an aspiration for the silver screen
Stowed delicately in your silver purse
Stringed
And loping
You travel a direction
Fated to be multiple
A Californian for a girl slung a carefree arm through mine on one of the first warm spring days. A true warmth, the kind that makes you want to kayak. At that point I had no superstitions about writing about the past, and a lack of interest in prophetic lines. Immediacy, orgasm, drugs, that life precedes my lateness. The Californian (she) didn’t pretend or flinch. She drank a canned beverage as she made offers. I conceded to her strange ways in all modes except sexual. A romance bloomed between us through winters and springs. I wonder if my two Californian friendships benefit from the coastal time difference. The 2 times. Now, she maps her route with regard to water and wisdom. I strive to become a better listener. Less anxious, I think. We contact each other from time to time.
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