Monday January 29, 2018
It was hard beds, good sleeps, wild dreams.
It was soft hands, stark words, sweet kisses.
It held us in our tiny pod, two feet from the ground and floating. Brought us to the flashing lights and the back alleys and the families of perfect chickens. It was poetry and history and a birthday song over the PA in the lobby.
It was poetry and river walks.
It was poetry as patience.
As covered knees in the solemn place.
As the sunrise on a boat in the Mekong Delta.