she’s sweet and soft and tastes like honey (yellow box and thistle). hands tan and cracked – likes doing things with them but they’re not working how she wants them to. • hair soft when you brush it the right way. she sounds like running water on a hot day. (i think i’m a little dream of grass and rushes inside). •
she takes photos of the same things over and over. shadows on houses and magnolia blooms. • i think i’m in love with her like a bee face first in a broad bean blossom. oblivious to all else. •
i’ve only polished my boots once in six months. priorities change when the boots that you walk in to walk at home, tread the ground you wear them to remember. • wide inner city streets. this is home. dreams of green eyes. eucalyptus eyed dear. this is home. •
days like these have always been days when i feel a strong strong romance with myself. acute freedom, in my bones, in my soul. days like today ooze with possibility, they froth and bubble like pink grapefruit lemonade on the tongue. the taste of summer fresh out of school. fresh out of the box.
