Oct 3, 2009
"Come with me my love to the sea..." we'll walk until we reach the horizon, They'll be sand dollars to collect and bums to share ice cream cones made of newspaper and filled with sand. We'll save some dolphins from the offshore drilling sites by riding trains and praying for fuel cells. I'll share your cold showers (the product of our broken water heater) and warm you up with Romaine noodles. I'll take pictures of where we've been and paint those of where we'll go on whatever canvas you leave on your skin. You'll sing random songs, I won't help but say "oh David," smile and try to keep a beat on my harmonica. We'll dance and sing around to our old blues records. We will lay around making up crazy ideas and talk ourselves in and out of them. I'll keep your secrets and tell you mine. We'll laugh or cry about the past, this outrageous war and about Adult Swim. And when we tire of crossing seas, sleeping on beaches and riding bikes for hours, all clean your false teeth with my mega beam 5000 and set the robot to sponge bath for you. And after we're through swimming in skies, flying in the seas and messing up sentences, I'll try and remind you to stretch. We'll take turns reading on some old rocker, on some old porch, under even older stars next to some Mississippi Mud, until we fall asleep and live those dreams one is only able to in books.