armed and hunting

in the dream:
it was something dusty dry like southern california
and maybe it was a bobcat or maybe it was
a search for migrants who had made it across the border
but there was something like a patrol
armed and hunting
and when i wake
it is with a song i wrote in my sleep
(simple and sing along,
the words that are still being sung
by jennifer morales who i met at the village fire
as i slowly wake
go something like
love love love you
love love love me)
very small blistery patch of
poison ivy on my ankle
i show mica who confirms which means
i now know i do indeed
the big round fluffness of pancakes mica makes
and the imported (from down the road) lemon curd
we spread on top
and the codl butter
we just leave in little lumps
and let the heat work its way through
changing it from solid to melty

how the rain – real rain!
(not pouring, but certainly more than 10 drops
which is all we’ve seen to have at a time here in the past month til now)
begins as i begin digging the volunteer potatoes
(yellow/gold with pink eyes – yukon)
and darkens the pink of my button down
and changes the texture
of my hair
this is a moment
worthy of yelling out
of calling up to the sky in gratitude
i ask joseph
if it was him i passed on m
while biking because it is difficult to see
through a windshield on a highway
but i could tell by the nature of the wave
that it was friendlier than most

set shit on fire!!!!! is the hesher-inspired
cheer/mantra featured in many marker colors
on mica’s hand-written triathalon training schedule
which seems to be a great companion to
two years ago’s: let’z get ripped
one thing i appreciate about you
rachel k  says from two time zones earlier
is how one moment we can be talking about grief/change/loss
and then the next we are laughing
about ridiculous things like unicorn emojis, etc


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