The Apology

Slim,

     I felt like crap. I slept most of the day. Completely out of it.  I'm sorry you stood at the door knocking and no one letting you in out of the wicked heat. Wicked. It is 111° today! Good weather for having a fridge on the blink. It works on the weekend because I am there to bang and start it up. I wonder if I have to toss out more milk products today when I get home. Life is grand.

     I only wish I hadn't torn to shreds that picture I drew for you. Of us. I know that's why you cruised by. To bring it scotched back together for me. Can 57 pieces of Bristol, a portrait of our quotidian make? 
     No need for forgiveness. You have me, caro mio. Every wretched little bit of me. 

     I wanted to cook you a meal tonight, but it seems like the warm front may have spoiled most of my edibles. Besides, we could both use some gelato tonight.

     Just come in through the side gate when you're done with work. I had Guiliano come over and fix it, finally. His daughter is doing much better, he says. Poor girl. Lucky she has such a hard working father to love and look after her. I don't know what I'd do in her place.

I'll be waiting for you,

M.

September

     September was my month. My month to take a really big, fat break from the facts of existence. I lay my head on the whimsical airs that permeate the hot density of the fleeting, yet arresting Summer. And while this ethereal persona deconstructs itself into a vanishing act, I push through with my lethargic attempt to join the falling of the leaves. To make naked. To bare myself from that which keeps me safe and sometimes guarded. After all, I am body. So, I stripped myself pure. It was not intentional, I swear. The cry of a baby is never a manipulative form of destruction, but rather an awakening into a life unknown where one hopes one may be love. And that I am. Love. If anything, it is quiet a thrill to relish in cumulative events of self realization.  "... And you got moxie!" he clamored. He steers me in, I admit. Closer to my secret place.
     Inadvertently, the change we oftentimes fear, we seldom rely on. I have decided I shall rely on Fall. I believe I have shed significant ego thus far. And so, I am perfectly attired to become a beggar child of the Redwood forest. That mustard-seed-size faith they profess is contained in my side denim pocket. I'm blindly enthusiastic, you see. An unshelled experience awaits us ahead. It's only a short drive north. I flourish in anticipation.