My soul does not reside in this moment. But in the memory of sitting in the grass with unknown music, playing around us.. the sun beating down on my wide brimmed hat, keeping time with the bass and drums.

It sits in sticky puddles of baked beans, blood sausage, pickle juice, and jameson, while vikings sing battle songs in the background..

It rises and falls with my breath on my mat, on the deck in that very first springtime of freedom.

It’s eating a bologna sandwich stuffed with ruffles in the saddle of a mountain in a hidden magical aspen grove.

I left it in the very beginning where I lay, where your fingers traced words lightly on my back.

It’s still standing on a corner in the middle of the nowhere whispering secrets to Jackson Brown

It’s dancing in the jungle fog of a gay club in East Orange, New Jersey

It’s sitting on your bed, singing about blue boys and blue frogs and the moon

It’s discovering the capacity for oxygen for the first time in years, still deep in the pine

It’s still bobbing up and down in a warm swimming pool, lost in kindness and rhythm of my breath.

In the rays of dusty sunlight shining through the rooftop of Chronos glazed slot canyons

It’s watching sparkles of glitter dance off our fingertips melting into the carpet realizing the day was coming sooner than expected

It’s running in the rain, as a charged rod for lightning to strike.. one last thing to share

It’s smelling your wrist and shoulder and neck.. lodged in the bourbon glaze of your eyes

It’s watching a strip tease, drifting in the vast

It’s at the left hand turn, through the slick rock tunnel, headed into Hidden Valley

It’s shaking it’s ass to Heart of Rock and Roll [@1:43], on a mission from god, armed with a bottle of windex and a roll of paper towels.

It’s 11 years late, randonly stumbling into the terror in your eyes, on a random Tuesday in May.

It’s pedaling into the wild, while that big hard sun beats down and erases rage and disappointment on our faces

It’s locked and loaded under a tied own strap – with a slight tap.. ‘that ain’t goin nowhere’.

My soul rests in the novelty of these old phases .. stuck in the dusty pages of bygone times. Wedged somewhere in between memory and anticipation.