Happy, like bees buzzing. This is enough, and this is perfect. Is there really anything better than being tucked away in a hidden corner of a library, with books stretching from floor to ceiling? Especially when it’s raining out. It’s as though God is saying it’s okay to stay inside, please stay inside…please fold yourself inward for a while.
I fold myself inward enough, but this is still heaven.
A library is dangerous, it can stir your heart and raise your chest. If you meet a lover inside a library, then you can guarantee the rest of your time with that lover will be filled with heat. Heat with a bit of restraint.
I’m happy under grey skies, but this doesn’t mean I’m a depressive person most of the time. The air is cool, and the grey of the sky and the air (especially if there is fog) makes the colors of the trees pop.
We used to ride our bikes to this coffee shop in town, and the wheels would get filled with soot and snowmelt. Our boots were filthy, the pantlegs of our jeans black with mud.
Black mud. That was different. In Ohio the earth is brown, a sort of grey mocha. Down here it’s reddish orange, and when the elephants at the zoo roll around in great pools of mud and rainwater, their grey skin turns orange with drying, caked earth. In Alaska the mud was black, and the grass bright green. When the tiny blades starting pushing up past the melting snow they appeared painted on. So green, so black, so white, the earth so unsettled below our feet.
I still think about it. Like a boyfriend I fucked a long time ago but can’t get out of my head. Alaska isn’t a boy, though. She’s a lady. A big, pretty, wild lady with mermaid hair.
Speaking of mermaid hair, lately I’ve been so happy that I feel as though I’ll sprout blue and green hair that trails to my waist. As though I’ll grow a fin made of rose petals, as though my heart is bigger than it was before. and beats richer, redder blood.
Beauty is defined as purity of form, as perfection of line, as perfect execution of design. Beauty explodes form. Beauty squashes form and design beneath the heel of her spiked leather boot. She lets you stay calm and then she presses down, pushing the air out of your chest. She’s spooky. When she lets you up, and you’re left staring at her perfectly round ass, you realize you’ve pissed yourself. Your heart’s exploded.