Saturday Morning Shows Up

I am listening to old new music and it is endless in me
It is Saturday and we are 200 miles from what matters
And we are sleepy and you are like you were the first time
I saw you. You are, goddam, you are really a beautiful person.
I know, you know, being a photographer and a connoisseur of beauty
and all,
And the water is slacking over the curtain and the plastic sound
of it
is the sound of
nothing matters, that everything is squared away
that we are 25, 35, 35, 45 years old–who cares–
that it is all safe, that he is safe and we are here
both of those truths protect the other, grow the other to better-ness
and the water rolls down the plastic curtain on this saturday

and you roll half on to a dream, half on to me or nothing
and you are as beautiful as I have ever known, you
as beautiful as just you are

and the water is wasting away and the volume whiles away in to the drain
like how I love you and him, our boy, and how it whiles through me, precious and
endless, like the span between
9 and 915 on a saturday, away, not at home, when it is
just you and me and we marvel at what life has rolled our way,
like we are the pins and the ball rolls to us and strikes us
and the ball is love
and you and I are bowled, seriously,

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4 Responses to Saturday Morning Shows Up

  1. Crystal says:

    The best love letter one could wish for …

  2. Ana says:


  3. Rose says:

    Im speechless.

    All I can utter is thank you. From a very full heart.

  4. Barbara says:

    lovely to be a part of your love that you both so generously share with those in your life……..

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