15 September 2017

Dog Days Down



Light breaks through the clouds, shining on a lake in the Scotland Highlands



vw van, Newport Beach, June 2017


Self-portrait overlooking Scotland's Highlands



I woke up to gray skies and crisp air, marking the beginning of fall. It only seems natural to write an ode to summer. 

When I think of Summer, ancient past and recent days collide.

Windows down, music up, hair whipping on the overpass.
A week at the lake, flying over wakes, holding on for dear life, fighting for first showers.
Bike rides up Huntington, photoshoots with Lynn, releasing hands, testing balance and hitting bins. 
Two beats on the edge of a cliff, on the edge of the high dive, on the edge of the couch where I peeled off dead skin from your beet-red shoulders.
Fruit flies in the kitchen, a dad rat decomposing, the sun's constant beating, filling up on watermelon.
Burning sand on bare soles, sprinting to the shore for the cold, hours clawing out holes eventually sunk in with the rising moon.
Singing "At The Bottom Of Everything" in an Arizonan cave, flashlights dim, acting brave.
Losing track of the days, a couple weeks in a drug-induced haze (I'm glad I'm over that phase).
July lemonade stands on quiet streets, cartwheels and grass-stained knees, that one time I got stung by a bee.
Warm nights under the galaxy scratching mosquito bitten limbs, sleepovers spent doing everything but sleeping, walks to boba in the morning.
Dinner outside on a Sunday night, a water balloon war with no champion, exploring new worlds on pen and in the open.

Summer is an eternity and a heartbeat.