After The Show With Jane

One of my favorite things is riding through the city with you in a cab on a stormy night. I love looking out through the rain streaked windows at the neon and the water, at the shiny slick pavements and the dripping trees. Outside all's cold and wet and raw, but inside we're cozy and dry, talking about the show we've just seen. And when we get quiet I listen to the wipers sounding like a heartbeat, and I always think of Me And Bobbie McGee...

And when we arrive home, I always wish the trip had taken a little longer.

Summer Flashback

Tonight I'm remembering you sitting cross-legged in the summer grass, the sun putting highlights like new pennies in your hair. You smoothed the denim skirt over your knees, pulled your hair back into a pony tail, and turned your face gratefully to the summer sky. Your cheeks showed just the hint of a summer tan. The air smelled of salt water and hydrangeas. You passed me a peanut butter sandwich and laughed at some joke I'd made, and you looked so totally happy that I had to laugh myself. Of all the good times we've shared, that was one of the best.

It's a nice memory to have on a winter's night, Jane.

Thank You

I never knew that marble could make such a cozy pillow, or that a blanket of snow could be so warm and soft. I never knew a feeling like this before.

Here under the covers there's a glow the color of sunrise in the desert, and wherever it reaches the air is warm and ripe with wildflowers. And I see the glow comes from your heart, it's actually shining inside you. Your heart is small and perfect, and when I hold you close to me the light shines through us both and we become one, a being of perfect light. God knew what She was doing when She thought of this!

 

Ghost Wedding

She danced her way across the room in a slow funeral waltz, her skin as white as snow, her eyes rimmed in black, her lips the color of a bruise. Her hair was white as icicles, her face younger than morning. She wore an innocent cotton night gown, stockings and garters, all purest white. Her fingers circled a small white candle, around her neck a white cross hung from a white chain.

She stopped in front of me, just as I'd prayed she would, and in that moment all sound and motion stopped. We faced each other on a bare stage under pumpkin colored firelight and she stood before me in first position, holding the candle to her breast.

She reached up and touched the Om that hangs on a silver chain around my neck, and I noticed there was something else on the chain too. I ran my fingers over a small sliver of flint and a piece of steel, hanging on that same chain. She leaned closer to me, holding the candle between us like a shield, and mouthed the word, "Please?"

I didn't even stop to think, I just undid the chain from around my neck for the first time in more than a decade, and struck the flint and steel above the wick of the candle she held. The spark kissed the wick and a flame was born, and the corners of her mouth turned up in the happiest smile I'd seen in a lifetime. She held the burning candle in her left hand, and her right hand twined around my left and we both squeezed like we never wanted to let go.

And we turned and walked back down the aisle, back into the lives that are our own and nobody else's, and we couldn't help but laugh as we kissed. 

Daylight In Winter

The wind is blowing through orchards and graveyards, the sky is burning, the stores are all closed. The rivers got buried by bright yellow sand dunes, our horses walked off through the green salty grass. The libraries tossed all their books in the ocean, now the shelves are all hungry, the air's full of dust. And you're walking the ridge line with tears in your brown eyes, hold on to my hand, it'll all be alright.

No Footprints In The Snow

I wonder where you are tonight. Are you sitting on a tree branch in Fort Tryon Park, watching the cloudy moonlight shining on the snow? Do you wander the museum at night, trying on medieval jewelry and singing in the old stone apse? I'd love to watch that!

I guess I kind of envy the way everything seems to make you happy. I wish you could teach me to do that. Lately it seems that no matter where I look there are tears so close beneath the surface of everything.

Some day when it's all over, and it's all started for real, I guess it'll make sense to me.

Just Another Winter Tuesday Night

All I want is quiet, and a cozy place to sit and watch the sky. I love watching the stars walk so stately slow in their circle of misty light. Even more I like looking out through my blinds at the rain humming to itself in its hissing voice. Every now and then there's an eclipse of the moon, and that's really special. I saw my first one back in the early eighties from the Promenade, surrounded by hundreds of star freaks and seekers. At its height the moon looked like an old dirty penny in the gutter, stained invisible reddish brown and almost lost against the suddenly bright stars. And when the light returned after a couple of hours all the people cheered, and I realized how hard it had kicked me in the guts.