(no subject)
i took a walk, i drank the heat, swam naked, vacuumed floor boards, mixed new lemonade, read of Dali and the grasshopper phobias (again, again, again). mailed my letters, (be on the look out Ms. petme my Georgia girl) picked from the yellow flowering plant, hibiscus here and there. it isn't late enough in the season for my cinnamon candles but I keep dipping my lips and nose to the little glass houses they sit patiently in. I can feel fall already.
found a baby storehouse of St. Augastine photos of me and Lauren on the beach, in the sunrise surf, our tiny latent bodies all periods and question marks and caught laughter, caught glances, matching baseball caps and browning skin. i was not so milky then. i showed my roman heritage. and had my mothers glow. My lauren and I look like two ships criss crossing and fumbling on sugar glazed landscapes. sister. friend. club houses, under peach stairways. "informer". we used to kiss like Capulet twins, praying with lips. our eyes always open and our noses curious for the smell of blushing lust. those were cake face days.
my hair is getting long enough to fish braid again. in a wreath just the way I used to wear it when we climbed up Cadilac Mountain in Maine, and that cold water halted my girlhood, at Smallsfalls, in Madrid.
musicology:
Chariots Rise-Lizzie West
Eva Cassidy, Eva Cassidy, Eva Cassidy,
In the Waiting line-Zero 7
And one old pre-fall favorite from the dove days:
Both Hands-Ani Difranco
found a baby storehouse of St. Augastine photos of me and Lauren on the beach, in the sunrise surf, our tiny latent bodies all periods and question marks and caught laughter, caught glances, matching baseball caps and browning skin. i was not so milky then. i showed my roman heritage. and had my mothers glow. My lauren and I look like two ships criss crossing and fumbling on sugar glazed landscapes. sister. friend. club houses, under peach stairways. "informer". we used to kiss like Capulet twins, praying with lips. our eyes always open and our noses curious for the smell of blushing lust. those were cake face days.
my hair is getting long enough to fish braid again. in a wreath just the way I used to wear it when we climbed up Cadilac Mountain in Maine, and that cold water halted my girlhood, at Smallsfalls, in Madrid.
musicology:
Chariots Rise-Lizzie West
Eva Cassidy, Eva Cassidy, Eva Cassidy,
In the Waiting line-Zero 7
And one old pre-fall favorite from the dove days:
Both Hands-Ani Difranco