the sun sets on the backyard. we hold hands and dance to belle and sebastian. and his voice, apple cider rushing through blood to warm you slowly for slow or chocolate coconut milk running cold down your warm throat for fast, sings the songs that make us happy. surrounded by magenta or blue or green or bright white stars, they are blackened silouettes on guitars and violins and trumpet and piano. we smiled as we kicked up dust. and they played your song (if you're feeling sinister) and my song (the state that i am in), and i smiled when i thought of you, a secret smile that no one notices. texas is one of the most beautiful places where trees mark the backdrop of the stage and waves of cool breeze ripple our hair and caress our faces. he reflects off the bass drum, pulsing the drum beats that become our heartbeats. kids dance in texas to all the music and holler about it all. we love the music because it becomes us.
i trust her. she pats my back when i begin to cry. because we're so alike, and somehow we messed up along the way. but i realize now...she is my best friend. i love you, ali.
the seas of wheat colored grass stretch in the wind to reach the thriving wildflowers. indian paintbrush, bluebonnet, firewheels, purple flowers and yellow flowers. from a distance the ground is multicolored, hiding drying soil and tanning grass.