03.24.03 . 4:50 p.m.
162: turn towards the sun

reckless and lazy - skin on fire.

moods caught in blue skies.

clouds look like figures put up by human hands.

to solid and too white for something

you can not define.

(there has to be another answer)

we were hanging around the porch, drinking Corona

and laughing about sundays and the bikers that

roared and revved their tiny engines.

(we knew the leather pants made them sweat in this

summer heat)

all we had were the two lawn chairs that my mother had

given me when i moved into my very first apartment

they werent comfortable, but its all we had.

the colours matched a 70's disco and there was rust

build-up along the ends of the frame.

(we still tested their limits by leaning backwards in them,

with our feet kicked up)

the trees were starting to dispose themselves of the

tiny, white blossoms i was beginning to love so much.

they were exchanging their white for green.

something more trandionally "summer-time" instead

of Spring.

(i just wanted the white)

there was no agenda. we only had one day of this.

one sunday of complete bliss.

one afternoon of perfect weather, and one afternoon

of fireflies that didnt die.

we had it all.

there was nothing to change about where we were at

and what we were doing.

nothing couldve made it better - nothing couldve

made it better at all.

i took polaroids of your face that was starting to match

the colour of the sun (that red hue you hated so much)

i laid them all out in front of where i sat so i could

watch you in still-form and still witness your movements

beside me.

you told me about your mother & fathers divorce

and how when you were 8, you had an afternoon similar

to this one, only you werent the one sitting - you were

playing on monkey bars, and in the midst of your afternoon

summer bliss, you heard your parents yelling through

the screen door of your old house on Danville St.

you said you would never forget that sound...crashing over

your friends' laughter & making you blush from the embarassment.

you made a sketch of my face, when i sat with my eyes closed

unaware of your pencil hurrying across paper making sure

the outline of my lips was just "right".

as the sun started to set, we soaked up what was left of the daylight.

we finished off the 12 pk, and gathered the empty bottles and

picked up the remainder of the limes.

we left the chairs folded out on the porch, stood up, and watched

the sun fall behind the trees that lined up in the alleyway.

we heard the motorcycles taking off from the Blue Goose bar,

and we knew it was time to call it a day.

we walked away from the sky, and in through the screen door,

and turned the porch light on....

called it a night.


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