This morning I ran in the cool rain, and thought about ways to see you again. None of them felt true or good so I ran straight through them. By the time I got home I was gesticulating wildly at myself, and breathlessly admonishing both of us.
Then I languished for the rest of the morning and wanted more, and also less. More of you and less of myself. More of myself and less of you. I looked at myself for a long time in the image projected by the camera on my computer. I took all of my clothes off and put them all back on again.
I feel safe in my lonesomeness. I keep putting this sunhat on because it makes me feel beautiful and smart, and I keep calling it “running” because that makes me feel strong, so strong. I’m electric this month, but also wasted. Wasted on the thunder no one else hears, wasted on the mountains I’m too chicken to hike alone, wasted on the river that runs too fast for me to float. I feel like I’m vibrating and I feel like no one can listen.
I like listening to the creek run out my window. I want you to come here in your truck and pick me up so I can lean my face out the window and grin. I thought I liked you texting me at 11:00pm every night but I was wrong, it made me volatile and hungry. I want bourbon and calloused hands and slices of lime. I want handstands on the lawn. I want to wake up and hear voices, not my own. I’m enjoying wanting everything, but I also want to come to Big Sky and pretend to be older, smarter, slower than I am by myself. Sometimes the shape of the sky makes me think I can see further than I can. I’m ok, but I want to press on your flesh to teach you how to press on mine, to see you again before July closes itself off, I’m ok but I’m aching for everything.