Thursday, May 26, 2011

Best paired with Pina Colada - Two Straws

My letter writing skills are far less advanced than the imagery and focus of great poetry, but I guess that comes from a traditional expectation of being feverishly honest or more typically romantic and pink.

I am neither.

I cannot brutally tell the truth because I do not like the way it sounds in my head. If I tend to exacerbate my emotions into themes it is best assumed the guitar solo will carry you away into my fantasy.

However, in the midst of this truth, beauty, freedom, and love: I write.

To you.

It wouldn't be fair to compare you to anything less than a force of nature. The kind of force an artful brunette, flushed from early morning's arduous love-making, cannot predict with what appears to be Elvis burnt into her pancakes. Her trailer parked visions of the Holy Madonna are no match for you.

You, strong and unpredictable as a tornado. Uncertain and damaging as hail.

You sweep through backyards carrying hot coals and cold beers - always covering your tracks.

Most of my evenings are spent watching for you in the sky. Scoping the horizon for an ominous cloud signaling your arrival. In any other daydream this cloud might bring doom and destruction, but these lazy summer days welcome the fresh wind and thunder loving.

My skin tingles, you blow through my hair, and I smile.

The judge who will be sentencing us today just found out the dance studio where his wife has been taking tango lessons for the past year has been closed for eight months. Last known instructor goes by the name Juan, prefers fuzzy navels, neon lights, and blondes.

"Two hundred miles!" He bangs his gavel. "Round trip." There is nothing to do but serve our time, and hope we'll get off. On good behavior. The sweat on his brow smells like cheap whiskey and reminds me of past time served. The restraints are all too familiar and I refuse to be led down that cold fluorescent hallway again.

I will be the file in your cake.

The tattoo of hidden duct work in your prison walls.

Be my look out.

My bribed guard.

My shadow and perfectly planned opportunity.

Break me out.

Follow me to the water's edge and disappear with me from sight and smell.

Resurface with me on the shores of Mexico.

We'll blend.

We'll toast.

To the moon and our enigmatic existence.


Anonymous said...

How delicious! But I thought I was the only tornado in your life.

the tornado said...

And I prefer Strawberry Daquaries

La Feroce Bete said...

Hey Tornado!!! You will ALWAYS be my Tornado Jed! :)