slip and slide

a flock of birds rises up from smoke stacks and exhaust pipes, against patchy clouds, blue sky, 5:00 early evening horizon, and all i see is brake lights, necks in cars twisted up and around behind and upside down, rearview mirrors reflecting the black mass, the flock of birds, so enormous in the sky, dark outlines, her wrist on a wire, an entire arm encircled in black there are so many birds, the freeway jams, my radio slides on and were under a bridge downtown, a birds eye view. you are in the puffs of clouds and explosion of birds from foggy rainy wet evening, so many that the freeway slows down, time slows down, everyone is getting it this time and no one honks their horn, no one glares from car window, its just up, up up and away in amazement. i havent seen birds like that anywhere but calistoga, rising from mustard and vineyards, drives home from st. helena and i can drive those roads blindfolded, so i just look up into the fields and the sky and it slips into a blanket of birds and i let this comfort me on my drive home, if even for a moment during this three week storm, i am finally warm.

i have coffee with dayna and chad and we push food around on our plates and bum lighters for our cigarettes that we must have, can i get another cup? im asking and were not in any hurry, i could chill for awhile, chad says, a slight grin held between bridge of freckles and all of us, natural and comfortable, easy with our smiles, our words, easy in posture and grievance, we sit a little longer as the sun moves across the backyard, smoke and talk and i love feeling like this, like i could say anything id like and it would be alright. the slip and slide of conversation between friends, new or old, but friendly, kind, gentle people is priceless, i just hope everyone has this, i hope that people all over can feel this safe. where there is excitement, there is fear, anxiousness to be alone, but i know, i know, that i will never be alone. there is a call i can make, in any direction and that call would be answered with what do you need? i am here for you. i havent felt this sure in a long time.

baby k and i drive the freeway to our little city, we cant see it through the haze from berkeley, neither of us wear shoes and he doesnt stop moving the minute i turn music on in the car. the bridge is quiet and we hardly speak but when we do, its outbursts of sound, fast moving and reckless, reminescent of our weekend, laughing hysterically and tap, tap, tap touching the dashboard, looking at each other and smiling, slow smiles, im so in love with our friends hes saying, and this is how it happens, how mine have become his and i love this world, for a minute, for the rest of the day i am grateful. i want to stay in that place, where inside a car, on a freeway, exhausted with a 19 year old boy, moving wildly next to you, things seem pure and simple and being grateful for great friends is the biggest accomplishment, really, nothing else matters as much.

in the rest of the world things move too quickly, your boy comes home and you cant believe you are actually touching his face, after what feels like the longest trip. you sleep soundly next to him, make sure your leg is resting gently, but enough, against his warmth, that pressure is comforting and your eyes push open to him in the night and he is still there, he is still there, he is still here. in the real world, you have to make tough decisions, you have to drive your mother to the doctor, you have to feel helpless as you see a fight on the freeway overpass and your voice to 911 is small and full of fear, you have to talk in code to your father about the weather, see if he can attempt to decipher what you really, really mean. in the rest of the world people die, too early, too soon and you cant cry about it anymore. the last tears came in a bathroom, youre wearing a neon hoodie and a visor and sunglasses and drinking a beer, watching two boys play guitar and you just start crying because of the unfairness of it all. you cant cry anymore, and although you want to keep talking about it, when you boy asks you whats wrong, whats happening, tell me something, your mouth closes and your heart beats real, hard and strong and quick, and you just cant. you just cant cry about it anymore. so you slip and slide, you paint your face, you put on clothes that are not yours, you sleep in beds that arent yours and hold hands with anyone that will. in the rest of the world you try to make your small world exist and on rare days, a flock of birds will bring that feeling around, on a rare night, a kiss can change everything, a dream of other places and feet on new ground can make those worlds crash collide burst panic stricken and resistant into one.