Melt your awkward approach like a sundae on an afternoon in the green and down by the ocean. A touch of Mercury gives pause for reflection as the light bleeds in like a pale blade of grass.

Under concrete interchanges, trailing the Subaru Outback wagons glinting in the sun because you know we’re for real.

It’s been too long, too long since we’ve been in actual touch. Somehow we made it here undamaged. Maybe too unscathed.

There’s still time to float on life’s sea salt breath like the tufts of cloud that seem as fluff nearly clinging to your messy hair I tousle. Speaking of breath tho — nevermind.

Forget about the deals we each had to make, the promises we had to accept, the glacier float plane junkets that could have been, just to make it here for the idyllic Cascadian Sunday.

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Cell phone towers watch over the interstate like helpful aliens. The brown roofs of stocky suburban homes peak through the leafy overgrowth –evergreen, burgundy leafed, reflective.

An American flag hangs limp. Somewhere far away they’re off to war again. Large bold letters announce a drive through tobacco shop.

So many homes fashioned after modern barns. Just an air conditioned life. Soak the hours in splendid reverb.

I’ll keep broadcasting echos into the void. And maybe you’ll hear them. Maybe one day we’ll crack the code. I hope you don’t find me imposing.

Slingshot me back to the forefront of everything. I’m ready for the rush. By staying still. Just how you do, with your perennial in-place satisfaction.

I hope you’ll understand me when I say thank you — even if the words never come out from my keyboard.

Feed Shark