T plus four

"there was a whole lot of living between T minus Zero and the big T. think of that," he smiled as a wall sized wave of heat flooded down my body.
I'm thinking of that, now.
I'm thinking of that, now, nestled in the T plus 4, curled like a ribbon in this heart shaped bed, shimmering.

today, I swept my arm like a rainbow and delighted at the sound of spines and pages catching air, soaring thickly towards the thin tread of carpet. today, I lit the firecracker and roared with the squeal of tires and grass spun like paint behind me and the great getaway. I thought I had to be fearless to be so angry. I thought I had to be tougher to really take it on as a lifestyle.

"It was a time when I was flying solo," I repeated, still curious about the irony of the words. "...and, it's like the ground or sky don't matter; I trust myself. I can fall, fly, close my eyes and not know where I am and, yet, I know where I am and I know how to have soft landings and how to have fun in the disorientation. In that kind of flying, I'm most alive."
Again with the irony.

what a surprising thing I've said.
With this, my arms crackle like a fire and a sky inhabits my chest.

stories.

there is a beginning that starts with a story. it is a story of loss.
in the telling, we tumble and sift through touches. we listen...

...and listen.

my breathing falls into the space above me.
your weight is my weight and it leans into the wooden fence where wind meets my belly.
in front of me, my eyes gather a field of long grass.
there is the sense of horses.

i remember this soft stroke of scent; the perfume of alfalfa, fescue and sweet grain rising from a velvet kiss.
inside, my bones are shifting and singing the memory of a true love.

there is a story that begins with a loss. it is the start of the sifting through.
in the tumbling, we touch and start to tell...

....and listen.

we move to a common grief. a known geography. a familiar pull. a private understanding.
your gesture is mine echoed back to me and mine is a reflection back to you.
in the chaos, there is order.
each string rings into a coherent dissonance.
here my hands carve syllables that you may read aloud.

please, tell me again...
i want to hear, this time, with the soles of my feet.

and again,
so i can taste the sweetness of a word.