HOT TOWN summer in the city/ back of my neck getting dirty and gritty...

I'M SO BROKE AND ALL I WANT TO DO IS TAKE PHOTOS--if only my eyes were cameras, the things I see, you'd see, you'd feel, you'd need in the way that we need air, and wind, and rain and all of the elements that pull us with vocation into memories and spin us out into open water, horizons bleeding red, orange sunshine rising and falling into the darkening dusk before morning.

(need)

the Van

Last night riding shotgun between Alex and Charlton on the way home from the bar, I faced backwards staring straight at the boys crammed onto the back seat-bench. On the floor, it was both the comfiest and least informed car ride I've ever had. The whole time we shared headphones listening to Guns N' Roses: enlightening since I'd sort of written them off. It was the first time all day that I forgot about my sunburn.

paint the

yesterday we painted--puff--puff--paint, and globs of red drifted across the time stiffened paper. flowers and vegetal matter were all that streamed from my brush tip in blue, purple and that red, dark red. black lines took over and a crossword puzzle of hieroglyphs materialised behind colour. and then water. it never looked like anything until i spilled water over it, and then it became art--a wicked beauty pretending, and that was nice.

when i go running i take my keys off the chain and stuff them in my sports bra. i don't have pockets, and this leaves my hands free to wave at the sun. a sun that bakes rivulets of sweat into my forearms and crusts the line between face and hair. music wafts from hard trance to joy division and think about life, and then i do. i stop halfway through to lie on the grass shaded by trees, and pretend to stretch while i stare at the strange man reading a women's health magazine while his legs dangle above the canal. it's hot and i'd rather stay here, but i catch sight of a woman running quickly by on the other side of the canal, and i decide it's better for me if i keep going.