The sunset sky with dusky violet swirls of candy-heart love and blunt, orange brushstrokes of miss-you-more-than-summer lifted her up, up and away— the parachuted girl who should have come down far earlier than she did.
Looking up from the sidewalk, he waited while tapping one sensibly shoed foot, with its earth-hold-me-down steel-toed boots, and pushing his black wire glasses up, up the bridge of his nose.
Hours passed between them and a whole lot of days too but he was there to catch her fall, gathering her down into his arms as men in love are liable to do.
He and she, both foreheads together bent over that picture book like there were dusty, cobwebbed prophesies spun from one scripted edge to the next, and she had two sets of keys and a thing for sevens like Joshua or the days of the week and he had a makeshift will of too many days without sleep and the eyes to make connections between river valleys and ancient Aramaic— or Latin at least— the quo veritas question as old as blue skies and green leaves.
I just want to live quietly and make quiet wishes. But when I sleep and when I dream, you visit and bring electric guitars and beat poetry, sunshine daisy dandelions and passionate kisses. You bastard.
“Life will break you. Nobody can protect you from that, and living alone won’t either, for solitude will also break you with its yearning. You have to love. You have to feel. It is the reason you are here on earth. You are here to risk your heart. You are here to be swallowed up. And when it happens that you are broken, or betrayed, or left, or hurt, or death brushes near, let yourself sit by an apple tree and listen to the apples falling all around you in heaps, wasting their sweetness. Tell yourself you tasted as many as you could.”—Louise Erdrich, The Painted Drum (via bookmania)
I wish I was a thousand miles away— a hundred thousand miles away— wrapped up in an afghan on an eastward facing porch step, sun warm on my face, breeze mild in my honey-colored hair, black coffee in my hands steaming, birds singing, grass swaying and you sitting on the step beside me, elbows on your knees, chin in your hands, your lips smirking because we ran away and got away with it.