Monday, October 13, 2014

before google eats us alive

We could be that slow drunk couple drinking at the Cock N' Bull on a Sunday night. I'll be buying your beers and it's the sweetest thing. The way I tend to your drink when it gets low. And you have your legs and torso swung in my direction with hands on my knees in the sweetest body language. And when that old folksy song comes on, we sing along, better than expected.

Or we can be one of those new age Bohemian couples with our finances in order. I'll spend my weekends tinkering with the soil of the vegetables in our urban garden, talking with the solar panel technician about doing the water heating system, and motoring to and from Little League games in an electric Tesla. Our two children have long hair and Sanskrit names that could be shortened to sound harmlessly Anglicized if they want. But they'll probably embrace em especially as they get older. It's really up to them. And you'll have that room where you paint and meditate up in that separate guest house perch with the huge open window that catches the afternoon ocean breeze and you'll say it's your favorite time and place, the afternoon time. And even when I emerge from my own zen den grumpy and manic you're somehow always ready to embrace me because you know creativity has so many forms and sources and that it is endless.

Or if those two don't work for you we could be that couple I've seen on Lincoln Blvd. late at night or on the Venice boardwalk early in the morning. Living on the streets and sidewalks. You yelling out your demons at me, I, threatening to leave but never going further than the shore, us, always coming together tenderly. The two beings between our bags in the evening, breathing in the Earth together, intermingling with the saltwater air and fooling the naked eye upon us because we are involved.

This could be the part where I say we've never met. But we have. In tiny fragments as you drove by, caught my attention on a promenade, or middle of the darkness while I slept and dream-formed your presence and how it felt as we cradled one another as a boat on a sea.