tonight the moon looks like a vanilla bowl of ice cream. there is no typo in any statement. she used to eat fat little worms when she was a child. i told her that time was a lake and she reminded me that rivers bring them water. lips, a tiny dog named elvis and calm and bone marrow. i wound down a hollywood hills stream resurrecting myself in my jewish deli city. alan watts returned to late-night radio, some indie station programmer brought his voice again; the illusion of separateness, buddha is an awakened one, sansara is a rat race to which we slave. outside, my friend and i were smoking and talking about meeting women and the distance between the nucleus and electrons, relative to a football stadium, ourselves. without the charge, we are soup, alone in december we can survive anything. still stars in the sky during the day and night is a prize if we can remember our moment. feeling thin, adult, meaning, bringing bunches of meaning, filling the plate with meaning. a christmas party, american spirits, basil whiskey, and little themes repeating themselves in new spirit.
"metaphors are dangerous. metaphors are not to be trifled with. a single metaphor can give birth to love." - milan kundera
she's passionate about tomato soup, prop. 37, and old people. i told her about the lady i rented a room from in franklin canyon years back. it only took abby three marriages to have the same last name as her street. she laughed. abby had an oxygen tank, swollen legs, flaky skin and a dark sense of humor, loved the syncopation of my guitar, watching tennis, and kept a tiny prison bed in the miniscule nook she sublet a teenager who spent his nights wandering the neighborhood, drinking whiskey, wincing from the hollow burn, improperly smoking cigarettes and smelling cooking from houses belonging to families and stoves. they weren't good days or bad, they were mine, simple. but we don't include those details because they arrive later and are inconsequential in comparison to the spark of interaction.
elvis reclined on her lap, head hanging back like a kid upside down or a playful bat.
