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.

to the gypsy, that i was

listen to this:

"you relate to the world through smells. oak campfires smell like beach-fires in san diego. incense, car carpt and cigarettes smell like being 18 and in love. drying dog shit, black on green kansas lawn, smells like summertime. water and river brush smells like sumertime in arizona, colorado river. hot buds of weed burning smells like being 15 and sober while your friends laugh and grin, slant eyed and high.
rosewater on bare skin smells like your woman when youre heading home with her form weeks away, apologies made and nothing resolved-nothing is resolved-life is still a big hanging sulk of mystery or futility or repeating patterns or hurt feeling or too much damage done maybe. but youre together again, youre heading home. you are heading home.

my latest favorite writer gets me, he gets what im saying.

there is nothing i can say to perfect this weekend, to write it down wholey, to tell people who arent from there, what it means to be born there, raised there. it is hard to put it all into motion, to tell you all how my friends smells make me crazy, how holding a boy ive known since i was three makes me crazy, makes me happy and whole and warm and safe, how the smell of bon fire is a million nights over the years and how i havent seen linden in five years, since all that shit went down, and when i hold her bird hair close to me, our smells our the same as they were when we were 17 and we both come up laughing, not enough time has passed to make us untouchable, for alex to not be able to bring us together. and thats what he does. he brings us home. he brings us all, thankfully, home.



these videos pretty much explain my life perfectly right now...te quiero todos.

http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=528816590483

http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=528813865943

http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=528799599533

the present

i dont mean to keep secrets,
telephone calls, whispers,
raincoats and blankets,
thin wrists and im sorry.
we are all each other has left she is saying through grimy
receiver
a borrowed cell phone
a good winter
im so angry, im so angry
we repeat sentences to make emphasis
i say things out loud in my sleep
direct plays and conduct symphonies
all made out of clay
with clay shot hands
tiny figurines line your shelves
blow them down
bullets and lead pipes
such a tease
somehow she hugs me
next to birds of paradise and
the whiskey spills between us
thin rivers to line
the sidewalks and curbs
where friends mope
and mingle in darkness
with feathered hands

careful captions

the cherry blossoms happened only for a week and you missed it. now they are dark berries on the ground, wet and matted with cement and twigs and stray string from first grade art projects, spit and soil and hard cold truth. this city was covered in fairy tale pillows and cotton candy wisps that shot up from car windows, out apartments lining the streets of Capp in the mission and now, they fall easily into eyes and bangs, dead and gone, tired and forgotten and i just cant believe you missed it all. that you missed this beauty. that half this city forgot to look up in a week, eyes on shoes on money and fame and feigned love and supposed bliss. that this city missed the cherry blossoms and i miss you, wildly, uncontrollably. that while we are missing one thing, we lose, become disenchanted and careless, with another. i never want to miss you this way. i cant stand the missing of something that will never return. the cherry blossoms will be back, not this year, but again, they will fill the grey sky will pinks and perfect patience and the city will be lovely again, to stop you in your tracks and be grateful. his smile i wont get to see, hear that voice lift up in dark rooms on clement, bedrooms and car hoods, sing out, sing out, mingle with lofty breathy november, hold me close against washing machines until were laughing hysterically under lamplight, fire light, he was light... often we forget and then all the sudden we are missing someone, something that wont return. i never want to be careless like that again. please let us all stop being so careless.

someone was thinking of me

happy valentines day kitten
Reply to: pers-1034201725@craigslist.org [?]
Date: 2009-02-14, 1:55AM PST




have fun




* it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

PostingID: 1034201725

missed (it hurts less when its not yours)

san francisco
search
lower haight
the girl with the purple pen
amazing kisser
rainy weather, full moon, I know how these make you feel
before 8am sunday along sunset
looking
el rio
quieres...y tu, quieres?

that i wanted
beauty

It occurs -
if ur at the end of ur rope
im sorry
took a picture
alone as always
I'll wait for the next one


you said you're from eureka

here's how it plays out.
im tired so i dont know if i missed anything but i do know one thing
youre so sure this time? really
you love walking by the beach in the rain

I am really trying to care right now
new keys and lightbulbs
palpable
and i guess what really scares me about you is the fact you could (break my heart)

I Buried Danielle Steele

So now I know
u called me i got scared, threw up
follow the leader,
flawless girl

since our new years kiss
you've heard me sing
no, I'm not toying with you.. -
talk (OR MORE)
bathroom Line
stolen artwork in the marina
oh baby
hair pins and pink hair band
you: w/Green Hoodie
wouldn't know what to say

i'll never admit it -
my heart and mind conflict
that smirk

cute city girls
a promise is a promise

blood bank

a thursday we walk in rain, i like walking like this, hes saying, silent walk, just heels on pavement and that slight in and out of his breath, just alive wild oakland streets and lovers like lovers just walking, silently praying, please keep raining, please let my hair fall the way it should, make up drip the way it does, the way it can, turn this smile inside on the corners, draw my sad lips up and show him how happy he makes me. wet hair and grinning, wet skin and stumbling, every street opens up and carries me. its raining and i want, i want, i want to not feel like im leaking, like everything could fall out the bottom, into something, nothing more than a puddle between our feet. our feet. we walk in rain on a thursday, you look like a gypsy, i cant keep my hands off his face, im in love with your honor, im in love with this place, we find ourselves outside an apartment, its his, its raining, and we could be anywhere, we could be anyone. but were not, its raining and were us and were home.