"I can see the white specks of soft oxygen floating on your ever so slightly-stained back. The sun reflects off the moving ripples of liquid karma. The movement of your spine drifts through the broken woods with abject disregard. There is no beginning and no end; only the rigor of ebb and flow. I have questions that only you can answer; unanswered questions from my childhood. They rage in my heart and can no longer be contained. I have no choice but to see you up close now, old friend. My feet are burning to ramble; my eyes itching with desire. Your banks are stripped bare by the frozen storms; pounded flat by the weight of winter. You have an openness now like at no other time of the year. I crave to discover your secrets; I require an audience with your mystery guests. Come, let me know you again before the rains of April wash it all away; before the blossoms of May hide them forever."
From my new story "I Know You"
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