Cheddar sticking to my teeth. Coffee is crap but i drown it n milk and sugar. Monty’s hair is soft and feels like silk – petting him connects our hearts. The cat sniffles on the mountains. Trees, birds ...sun is shining and there’s life on the ordinary. Glaciers and stone. Still cheese on my teeth. Soaking feet in green converse from trekking through February marshes. Bare trees and owl screeches. Calling out, trying to disguise our humanness with sounds, flat notes. Hands toward the sun bringing life- long stemmed grass blowing in chilly winds she shines shines shines and our limbs stretch towards the sky. Smoke curing around our minds the hum of the refrigerator clanking avocado making and clearing throats. It’s only survival, friends. What am I doing here? it’s 1 AM and I am editing my free-writing and breaking the rules. Typos drive me nuts and I can't help but feel like he's around here somewhere, stopping by on the wave of a lucid dream. I dream about sleeping next to him, our skin bare and freckled, our toes touching and we’re reading aloud to each other, sharing glances and smiles and watching the hair fall across each other’s faces. The room smells incense and faded book pages. I don’t want anything more than this. Our intimacy is in long stems of grass tracing each-others skin, tangled up in blue, writing poetry on our hands and running my fingers across eyelids, his lips, his chin, his shoulders, his arms and his hands. His hands that curve to form beauty and clench to build and create. Hands that rest on his knees when he’s comfortable. That hold firmly onto his tea cup to collect warmth. That catch me in my madness and collect me in his embrace.