I saw the prettiest face the other day at Goat Hill. the way her eyes change when she smiles and the colors that the sun reveals in them. like her paintings, no matter how close you look, there’s more to see. she is steady like those big cliffs that overlook my favorite towns and the river between them. don’t let them tell you she’s not a rock chick. I kissed her on one just the other day.
we watched the July 4th fireworks popping off the Maine coast from the ocean ten miles away. I couldn’t take the picture so she painted what we saw.
this brilliant cascade of notes burst out and I imagined a psychedelic bouquet, hyperblooming in a cartoon-in-real-life vase. an aggressive kiss from my guitar to my Celestion Blue speaker. times like this when chance intervenes. I prepared well for the job, but the moment itself was the genius. I breathe well around that kind of air.
I said to my good friend: you and me have drank some of the same water. cosmically and otherwise. he smiled and agreed.