You and Me was published in P Magazine, November 2016..

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I need her the most in the mornings. Stumbling out of bed, eyes weary and dry, it is a slow crawl to her brightness, her wet warmth on my fingers and feet and face. Every morning, or I am lost. Floating disassociation. Slow starts and stumbles. She is fresh and powerful, fills me with a grand hope for what is yet to come, a longing connection for the time that is passing, a strange desire to warp and compress it all into one consumable bit. 

It is everything when I feel her close to me. Breathe her deep into my lungs, the comfort of her on me and in me, all around me. Lost in her, walking for days, she carries support and carries questions and carries the weight of terror, the fear of the unknown reaching out to you, the beckoning from beyond.

And when it rains, when I feel her slick around me, when I feel like we’re melting together, that strange tunnel of time opens up and I am young again. Her deep scent, trees and grass and earth. It’s all around me and it moves me. Moves me forward, backward, all over in my moments of past and present. Scent memory, strong emotions. Heavy feelings pulling in around me. 

To the moon and beyond. To the stars, the planets, the next universe and the one after that. When I am drowning in her, buried in her, when I’m born again in her and we’re just one thing. One body, one movement, one feeling. Deep, deep. Currents of ecstasy and ardor and warmth, tremors of melancholy, strong roots of nostalgia, binding us together with every branch on my back, dirt between my toes.

And when the sun hits my skin and she feeds me. When she burns me crispy and raw, when I can sense her vibrations all around me. I can peel off layers of myself to give back to her and she morphs me, moves me, wraps around me, from cell to cell, cheek to cheek. 

What more could I want from her? What more than what I got, what I am given? When I am wet and wandering and she is there, is the cause of it all. Sense and logic joining under a greater understanding of our history and future. Lucid dreams, fed by daylight.