My father was a somniloquist; he only talked to me in his sleep. Lured at night by his one-sided conversation one room over, I would escape the cot I'd grown out of, gaze at my sleeping mother, and ... [+]
Wooded, wooden and magnolia sheltered. Panel lined to be specific.
Breezeless evening. Sticky, warm and screened.
Tightly angled knees/elbows thrown around the room. Hazy t.v. Some show. A puffed 80's sofa, velour smooth and richly auburned brown. As are you. Cheeks black freckled. Smoke polished eyes reflecting the passage. Blue flannel over white undershirt in this southern circle. Familiar gold tooth guiding seekers to their north star. And your smell. A mood mixture of chewed cigars outside mason sand aftershave pine oil red clay.
Wish - a perfumer would.
You are here. Briar rabbit slow. Hanging out and checking-in. On us.
Mouth a satisfied shelled pea. Sweet tea. Gas station chair.
Peace, in a back pocket.