remember to first bring you

and just like that, the blood wakes up. it's spontaneous when the senses meet a stimulus. you walk and talk about the complex interrelated mystery that is a family. and it's strange how a comedy I wrote five years ago could still dramatically hold true. she drew a circle around us in the sand. nights ago, a girl from my childhood grabbed a rosebud and threw the petals over my head, white with pink edges, they splendidly dispersed, swayed and floated like remembrances or opportunities. she gave me a tiny yellow flower. i grabbed a bundle of jasmine. the full moon dilated within a powder lavender sky that lowered to the same hue of blue. i have no shadow and then i do. my dad said, his lungs are clear, his heart beats slow and strong. my mom told me, she's glad i figured out the things she didn't, as early as i did. my sister held guardian over me as i drunkenly slept on a lacma lawn, her a fawn. my sister's loyal chihuahua guardian always runs to me excitedly, with it's little brain and everything, so long as my sister stays in the room. my sister and i hung out at mission beach and listened to her teenage punk music and she thought girls were looking at me, while i thought she was a lion full of love. i am an amalgamation of the people in my life. i am heart wide-open getting pummeled by their energy. i stand on my own two feet. in sand. dirt. piles of crumpled papers and notes written on old-fashioned pale green diner tabs. i see faces. talk like a depraved sailor. marvel at the nuances of vocabulary. fumble inane half answers when a customer asks me where the salmon's from. find the line to get a burrito at whole foods. note the climate change. record temperatures hitting the southland. i will adjust again and again to the climes. somehow building upon that which can not be stated in any rational terms of certitude.