Sipping On Summer

I was sipping on summer time melancholy after my a*s was handed to me from a spring festival called Apple Jam.

It was a fresh kind of melancholy, not the kind that may make you walk off a bridge; but dancing smirks flashing in and out on the back porch while you gaze at a sunset with a joint between your lips.

The kind of melancholy that strolls you into twisted brambles on the trails of yesterday. BlackBerry smeared faces and bits of prose falling from a memory.

Swimming lakes and rivers all day.

Camp fire laughter bouncing off the stars, the whip and crack of flames poltergeisting itself through long talks that change your life.

Turning corners along the rivers twist and shouts. Soaking up enough rays to become Latino. Yeah. Waking up in the grass with the birds singing songs to everybody. Don't worry about a thing the only thing we have to do today is get a tan, laugh, and swim water ways.

No traffic. No signs barking at your mind like a drill sergeant dad with no medication for his O.C.D. No damn bills. No stress. Kick back, scratch your balls, drink organic tea, tell a joke, play a song, hit yourself, act out a scene from a Play, burn some dabs, do a head stand, fart 333 times from a distance, throw a football, crack a funnier joke, do something wild and off beat, skim rocks off surface water into a dozen tomorrows. I don't give a s**t.

We could sip on champagne clouds that rain on a orange grove and make mimosas all day right on the hulk's lawn.

We could have private thoughts about one another. You want to smash my face. I want a kiss.
Simple.

F**k.

Let's get outta here soon the sunset is almost done.

We Head back to camp and start a fire to cook some din din.

Once your wild friend starts drinking you know nobody is sleeping and all hell is breaking loose. After steaks we pound beers back.

There's nothing like sipping on summer with days and nights like this. Look at those stars. There's a spiral staircase made of Crystal light up there.
Let's take our party down to the shore and dance on the sand.

Look how illuminated it is from that huge super moon.

I could write a thousand line essay on that by itself.

What about all the other things too. Friends. Mimosas. Camp fires. Personalities. Tragedies. Personal hauntings. How the heart beats wild mustangs in the untamed mountains of a place that nobody sees but everybody feels at some point.

Red dawn sketching through the amazing water playing with movement.

Your friends still asleep up at camp. Red water spilling into a dam inside you. A powerful tug from some massive Hulk throws you down beauty 's canyon breaking every wall of fury you have, for now. Watch the rage and sorrow crumble. See something else rise above the trickle and ripples. You're not sure what it is.
?
X factor
?

You only got a glimpse. But it intrigues you deep down to the core.

Chalk it up as more hauntings and glimpses, more whispers and telepathic messages from God. Not so much a thought but a overwhelming feeling of peaceful flow and super tremendous summer shine shining, beaming through tall grass to reach a heart that is listening.

You sit down in the water, Every problem you had is gone. Solitude gives a sermon on life to the astonished stones by your feet and they actually start crying together, soft, quiet, and deliciously sweet like mom's homemade chocolate chip cookies.

Drink in the moment.

Think about the traveling festivals of five years past and almost die from smiling.

There's a hulk in your heart.

He is choking you with hands that have crossed a land you have forgotten.

Your friends will be up soon.

Keep sipping on summer.

There is a way out of the brambles.

Keep sliding through morning sermons.

Watch the swallows make you jealous.

Hear your name being called in a thunder dome that is your heart.

It looks like it's going to be a perfect day for jumping off bridges and making big splashes.

I am sitting on the edge of revelations.

Alone, but not alone.

Sipping on summer time melancholy wishing for another festival and never attending another funeral.