Today I am alive. And free.

Rollin and I met up at Central Park, he with a helmet for me and an adventure. The maiden voyage of the beauty, the great and rusty tandem queen. We looked at her, and each other and the traffic, and the air so clear and the sun so bright.

I read a guide on how to properly ride a tandem bicycle. Rollin was the captain. I was the stoker. We were supposed to find a certain balance and chemistry in order to have a smooth ride. Fortunately, we did. It was perfect. Around the Central Park loop twice. Smooth and full and fast, and ah. The air smelled good.

I forgot about yesterday. And about last week. And about tomorrow. And about three years ago. I just breathed out the shit, and decided to live.

And you more than whispered in my ear, remember how I promise life? Remember Reid, Remember? I do. How could I forget it.

And then I danced and forgot that I care about other people's eyes and how they look. And then the night turned to something strange and good. A farewell passionate kiss after holding and holding and holding, and why Chicago? And why now, and who are you, and why me, and why not. I had forgotten that kind of being alive. Forgotten the white hot, Forgotten the deep embraces that hold things together. Forgotten that people can call you beautiful and mean it, kiss you and mean it, hold you and mean it, say good bye and mean it.

I'm not even sad. It just was.
And friendship over wine.
And being called by name.
And moving til I drop.
And sweet bed full of warm sleep.
And no dreams, no dreams, just sweet oblivion please Just peace. Please. Just soft quiet closed lids, and the promise that someday someone will hold me through it.