a grand book
in a beautiful location
can heal hell.
I never read the introduction,
always save it for after,
when I've understood intestinal pages.
Same goes for life:
dive in and ask for forgiveness
after foul or folly.
Motorcycles behind me,
the ocean roaring in front of me,
and I, in the middle of my life,
just a grey figure in a grey world
of guessing at colors of sky,
trying not to ask why, ever,
but unable to resist curiosity
and love, which are the same shit.
I wrote like garbage last Labor Day weekend,
because a great gal gave me the business,
and the horizon had me.
So, more wet distraction is needed,
and so after reading, I go roll
in when the rain arrives as company.