Joni Mitchell singing ’bout blue and thats all you could see really. Blue.
I was driving so I didn’t look down but
I imagined the road, the big concrete feet holding us up.
All of it made down river somewhere called tongue point.
Everything all caught up in my chest and Joni crooning, helping me to make something
Im better talking after I wait a minute. Clearer, calmer,
apt to let the sky sooth that sharp twist of words over my tongue.
Better, but often not patient enough for it.
Taking the bridge into the sky that day on top of all that
deep green and steady rush below,
I let your hand on my chest steady me into flight.
I offered you the same.
We’ve been here ever since,
Daytime and sun-drenched, hand-holding, sweaty behind the knees.
Later cold-nosed under blankets in the night, softest clutching I’ve ever.
You always telling me where you are going,
even though I won’t remember. Even though I know
you’ll always come home to me.
Every bridge arching and aching for our crossing.
Every mile one that I want to take with you.
Sunset on the Astoria-Megler Bridge.
More from the vault. Two letters. Two different days. From the same room. We are still so good. Notes in the morning, notes in our sleep. All the ways to say we are full of joy. Its still so good to love and be loved. Every moment.
i’m hanging out in the cafe at elliott bay bookstore, and you’ve just stepped away for a second to go to the restroom, after we were just probably the cutest/most disgusting two humans in here: laptops side to side, cuddling during brunch, talking closely.
i just called you a creeper and you just said, “takes one to know one.”
it’s only been two days together and i’m so balanced and so filled up by being by your side, so complimented, so completed. i can’t wait to spend another few days here, then our trip together. to have 11 inseparable days. yes.
hey, let’s go grocery shopping and hold hands and be goofy and in love. let’s stare at each other from across a room crowded with friends, let’s sniff each others’ shoulders in public and kiss. let’s sleep naked and wake up in a tunnel of warmth under the covers.
i’m obsessed with you.
Another, several days later:
Its very early in the morning and I am sitting at the desk in my room writing to you. You are just a few feet away sleeping soundly and I can hear your soft breath just above the sounds of the keyboard. It was all i could do to get up this morning, to wrench myself away from your warm, sleeping skin and into this computer. There is some minor crisis happening with a client, so I’m glad I listened to my alarm but so so sad not to be continuing to sleep soundly next to you. I am so glad you are here. Every time. I feel this immediate sense of world is right with you, and am overjoyed to wake each morning with your body wrapped around mine in an answer to my, ‘are you there?’ with a resounding and beautiful, ‘yes.’
I cannot wait to kiss you good morning, to make you tea and hold your hand, to talk and laugh and learn from you and with you. You are my one.
I love you.
Last night we talked forever and it felt like a revelation. Some of our discussion was about creating, about art, about making things together. My sweetheart and I are going to launch a small project together, and it reminds me of a similar time/collaboration we worked on last November – creating things together is something I cherish.
I’m going to be posting a few letters from our first creative project here as a way to movitvate moving forward into a new thing we are making. First, In light of all the wild political things happening lately. I thought I’d post this letter.
I want you to know that I loved this letter when I read it the first time. Have loved all of them so far, read them multiple times, am so glad to have this record of us, of you and all that you are thinking and doing in the world. You are a dream boat.
I have started my day with leftover chili colorado and a big helping of MSNBC election coverage. Its sort of boring so far in that, its just another big pile of speculation since we dont have any returns yet. Apparently just over 30 million people have voted, which seems like a sad number considering the size of the population. Then again I don’t have a feel about what the usual percentage of voting is. Im feeling tentative about the whole thing, nervous, and as if elections and politics and stump speeches aren’t real, nothing tangible will change regardless of who the president is, whether or not gay marriage and marijuana are legal, etc. I know it will, but it doesnt seem like it. The world is so vast and full of stuff, how is it that this can be real for the individual? Esoteric revelations for the win, I suppose.
Tonight I’ll be at my favorite bar with some of my favorite people steeling our clenched knuckes into the possiblity that elections matter, and we can count on each other to be good, to be reasonable, to be fair.
In celebration of these feelings, I’m going to go to therapy in an hour.