There was something gorgeous in the way

We lay on your bed

All three of us intertwined.

We kind of looked like a Renoir painting--

All of us connected.

The room light was golden

With laughter

Blushing

Giggling

And just enough tension to dance around the walls.

We traipsed outside under the young moon

So you both could smoke cigarettes

While I missed my human addiction--

We are all beautiful

In love

with life.

...when that one famous poet

wrote that particular famous poem--

the one about dying of lights--

i think his frantic brain

was on the shore

watching the sun set...

he must have-

with his metaphorical mind-

been regarding the sun

sink below the water...

how swift it happens-

he must have thought--

how quickly it all goes...

and by it- i mean-- of course--

not the sun

with its dying glow-

but life-

with its crying infants

turned old

in a wind blow...

so continue to rage against that death-

that death of ever circularity...

A bit morbid...

For Squid

You sat, making yourself beautiful by

Holding a wedding bouquet far too early

And your brown curls

Echo profound thoughts that

I'll never know completely

(Though we are strangely connected).

You'll always be the Charles Wallace to my Meg,

The Jane to my Lizzie.

You make everything make sense

In a world that spins crazy fast.