Bright in the Body

I remember walking up to a floor-to-ceiling window, looking out on The Strip.  Lights flowing, music lifting my gaze.  Glory and time flowing out in all directions.

I remember the first kiss ever.  Her blue eyes, her gold hair.

Rain and coffee, speaking truth by green water.  I remember that.  I remember dancing in an industrial club, hot and blurring.  The curves of her flesh.  Gold glimmering, dark eyes.  Guitars, like landscapes.

I remember the beat of your heart.  Holding your hand.

Memories, looking up into a rain so deep that it blinded me, made me feel like I was breathing under water.  Music, thundering.  All in me, like an echo that extends over decades.

As a child:  Running, on the twice-forked path, in the woods.  Fast.  Faster.  So fast I could dream of flying.  Dreams tinted green by sunlight washing through shifting leaves.  Ambient light growing brighter.

It pours out, an overwhelming abundance.  I'm just on the skin of the world -- and all this.  Much more than I can express.  The "rush of your lips"...followed by silence.  Extending.  How do I contain all this?  What does it do to me?  Just on the surface, here.  A blink.  The beat of your heart.

The beat of your heart.

The beat of my heart.