STJ
How is it that the Esplanade can feel like some sort of out-of-whack, out-of-synch eternity? I understand now when they say that the sea is like a field of fabric at night, the kind that suffocates you if you care to jump in. The lights were so sparse, I thought, honestly, that they'd make me warmer if I put my hands over them.
We walked there. I hopped my way beneath trees. It smelled like night and haze.
I grabbed Vincee's hand and dragged him over to see the water. Lisa said the highway looked as if it was coming out from it. I played a monkey on the guard rails. Before that, we sat in a circle and I fell asleep for a while against Ailene. My angel wore striped socks too. Someone took a photograph of our feet when our shoes were off. The Esplanade has a flooring such that I would cartwheel on it if I knew how to.
I'm reclining against my own mouth with all these descriptions, remembering to remember. I had a blast last night, of the quiet sort.
posted by enveloping @ 10:10 AM
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