kyle

Bearded triangle sunset sleeved whose sexuality I cannot inhabit

Whose life, with a 6 month old son and Colombian grandfather’s caving roof,

I can only imagine hands me the second free beer of the day and I guiltily cast

Unglassed eyes about to see who can see my blood red kerchief badge dripping sweat onto the luxurious granite bar top.

This is living. This 100 degrees. This caustic relationship tossing like the waves

Over affection, paternalism, despair, and competition, all culminating in

The sex impulse really, gathering strength through sketches, poems,

Intellectual arguments and eventually therapy—a conquering creation

Whose bounds cease to be able to be determined once they are no longer considered.

Out past the final sand gap, reeds reaching out like mother’s fingers,

Untold perfect circles beneath but above the knife of my strength trying to cut across the wind, cut across water like deep grained wood, I breathe heavily and find a lack of purpose. The first meditation in years.

I am coming back to it. Through pornographic images begetting competency in the workplace, I find, an ability to strain the mind is an ability to forgo what others can use against you.

Damn right every day after work. Red AND white.

What has generated meaning is a commitment.

I didn't wander for 40 years but I worked in the valley for 3 months,

Stopping before 2. I stole the shirt I sweat into. I wore it today.