When I Walked Through Boulder
I kept smelling cum on the walk back while remembering. I think it was dying magnolia blossoms my shoes scraped into the sidewalk.
I spent hours in the sunshine, lizarding around town.
Who needs therapy when there is so much alive?
Today it snowed, not to stay but mush the color out of sad grasses left over from kinder months.
I like to take my vitamins dermally; I am not afraid of burning.
Sunshine comes as a surprise.
Sometimes I can hardly believe it: we’ll be living out in the bright hot SUNshine,
we’ll be high on it, dancing through the farmer’s market,
I don’t even need you there. It excites you.
Let’s grow zuchinis and tomatos, let’s stop playing with toys.
Let’s fuck instead of sleep, meditate instead of eat, write each day into being, leave everything to magic.
Let’s create a two-person commune.
It was so automatic – the mountains, the hippies – trading my green for yellow
– I could drink it out of the air.
No matter what you say, I know.
I’ll give you everything but not because you deserve it.
I would watch a TV show of you smiling; I would eat a cake of you.
I miss you when there is no one to share good things with. I miss you like Colorado.