Saturday, May 21, 2011
We are in New Mexico. It is pretty much sand as far as you can see, except the body of water in front of us. It is man made and is a reservoir for a distant town. A young guy came up to us earlier and had a couple of beers with us (my beers, fucking free loading hippie), and then left us with some mushrooms. After he left us, and with out much deliberation, we decided to eat the mushrooms. As they took affect the harvest moon was rising. It was huge and Orange in the sky like only a harvest moon can be. We could feel the pull of the plains hundreds of miles away. Yes. The harvest moon. Yes! Finally I was on the thresh hold of tasting my first kiss from your sweet lips. We pull a beer from the ice, light a smoke, and then I grab your hand and tell you we must walk toward the moon. It is true but it is also my way of getting you on your feet so I can eventually pull you close to me. We stumble across the sand and find that the moon has led us to the reservoir. We have to go in I say. You put a steely glance on me that leaves it all to me. I give my clothes to the sand and jump in. You follow my lead. Eventually we come together in the water. It is nervous and sweetly innocent at once. The water is chilly after driving through the dry hot desert all day. Our lips are purple by the light of the harvest moon. With teeth slightly chatterirn we pull close for some innocent body heat. The chilly water is up to our shoulders, a moving sand is under our feet, and we are holding the only thing that makes sense. After thirteen states I find the moment that is not only perfect, but I will be punished for making the wrong choice. I wrap my arm around the small of your back and pull you in for our first kiss. It is nice but awkward as we both pull away. We both remember there was a reason we had never done this before. We both laugh. I swim on my back and kick some water in your direction. You laugh and mimic me. Now that we are laughing and playing I feel free. Now I grab you and really kiss you. The moon quietly rises as we find something. Are lips are not cold and purple anymore. We make our way back in. You grab a towel out of the Jeep and I grab some more wood to throw on the fire. We settle down with our shoulders barely touching. Neither of us know what to say. We start a smoke before I realize we should have a short glass of whiskey. I lurch up and get the bottle and two small glasses. As I pour it the smokey aroma has us looking forward. I settle back down and this time our hips are touching. We clink glass but before you can drink it, I say, kiss me again. You bat those unforgettable eyes, smile, and lean into me. You laugh and take a swig of whiskey. I follow suit. Good choice, the mouths are warm now. Ten years and thirteen states, I finally get my kiss. We lay back in the sand and look at the moon. We are holding hands, don't know quite what we are doing, feel overwhelmed, but also feel at ease. We are at the right place. Everything else is going to have to catch up with a fast moving road show. You suggest we go to the tent but I want to lay outside a bit longer. You agree and put your head on my shoulder. You say, "Patrick tell me a story". "Babe", I respond. "this is the story. Once it plays out, I will tell it to you". I feel like I could tell you many stories but I am consumed with the one that is being written righ in front of me. I would ruin it and tell you I love you too soon. I choose to be quiet. I ask you to hush. We will be in the tent soon. For now listen to the wind sweeping in.