Rosy, I'm Rising
<< 8:55 p.m. - Wednesday, Aug. 20, 2003 >>
Open me like a book, because lately that�s all I am. Built to spill copious amounts of thought. And yet, every time I sit down to purge lexis, they run into the darkness of my skull. Up heaving nothing still takes some effort. There�s always the question of how far I want to take this. Climbing on allegorical limbs is exhilarating but I can�t say I like looking down. See your face looking up at mine and shaking a finger. Won�t take it, but can�t ignore it. I�m blushing at myself.

So what are you thinking these days? I can�t read you. I�ve got my Odwalla and you your cappuccino, and watch us as we stare absently at the river and all this movement. I plague myself with petty thoughts and absent doubts. And I need to let go again.

I�m glad you jumped in with me. Clothes like wet cement and I�m always sliding under the water and looking at the eerie green algae filled Willamette. My eternal smile. You�ve earned that. Under the midday sun there are rainbows in my hair and the shadows my burning arms long for. Laying in grass with my empty and full head, let�s let this flow.