The delight of Guinness rested on his mustache, golden afternoon sunbeams burst through the crystal chandeliers pouring prisms of joy across the room.

 10 years ago, he died in a motorcycle accident in Virginia; yet there he was, clear as day, sitting next to the man with the radiant mustache. The second Guinness went down like silk. And the woman next to me asked me my name. 

 I wish I played the Portishead she requested.  But all I had was the mini fridge and the $30 hotel candle. her general disappointment was the only thing I remember that night. Bright cheers and the peculiar civility of a rugby match in Wembley stadium, as the blue-white scarf cradled my shame.

 Cold water splashed, people clapped, other murmured, but most all were intrigued by something they couldn’t grasp. Like the incent genus. Or jazz music of the 1906’s.  Any number of things that pique balls.  Like the dream you woke up soaking wet from fully immersed, only to sucumb to reality.

This existence I seem to balance like waves pounding an unruly sea. 
the ice cream truck didn't come until 8:30 that night. early porous moonlight clamored out of the clouds like heaven billowing a newborn mother’s first gaze.  a hard ten came at me steamrolling like water doubled over. Then I knew I was in love.  And it did not stop, building steel chalets downhill at 100 mph.  Vinyl swept angels and generational karma burst through me as beignets of lightning and thunder changed the barometric pressure before I touched you. 

 
But that would never be true unless I loved myself. 

 

no one could be that magnificent.  the one you were seeking was here all along- begging your bliss, unnoticed.  And if the free fall left you indifferent then maybe,

The shape of you completes my every move

Like symmetry aligned, enveloped in god