Weather Talk

September 14, 2004

More like stalactites of cold kelp than an actual sky. Yawning drearily the mist lies back on top of these bristly trees. It won’t get up off you until you don’t care anymore. Part of the great cycle is "the knowing when to give up" part. Redeemed only by the hint of new life on its breath it leaves you bone cold. A photosynthetic aura is not always warm to the touch. I roll my eyes back into where the sun used to be and conjure the smell of California -- Jacaranda, >expensive German exhaust, khaki red dust, dry grass, warm ocean and shampooed hair. Under the mossy waterfall we dream of the dessert. Adaptation has slowed since I learned there were options.