Damnit YHWH,
Nothing is solid and much is wobbling around my finger tips.
I just said good bye to my music, my passions, all the pieces of my heart.
The Empire is coming swiftly, back to sweep me off my feet and take me to the heights of the city.

Driving my beat up black Yamaha scooter, with red racing flames and a busted head light and muffled whimpering horn. Rolled away from Ford Ct. and the mass of smiles and smoke and asphalt wetted with spilled drinks and littered with red cups. The last of social events I'll attend. The boys, those beloved rascals, harassed me as I tried to leave. One jumped on after another, planted a kiss on my cheek, and once on my lips. And my Venezuelan soulmate, I watched her grow smaller in my mirrors.

Summers are hot and sticky, but then it's the early morning hours and I've got six miles of two lane highway to cover. The air is damp and chilled, and my thin silk shirt does little. I'm tensed up, huddled over my handle bars, gritting teeth and squinting into the insect bloated air. I'm chilled straight through my muscles now, and the earth feels clammy and I don't want to touch it. My clothes are strewn about my room, my raspberry red and orange and bright teen girl room, and I don't want to pack them. And I don't want to sleep. And I don't want to say good bye or leave or face the fury of the coming months.

Damnit YHWH,
when do I stop growing and leaving and beeping farewell on the Yamaha.
The Empire is waiting for me to come back to her, such a fickle lover. She is not so sweet or quiet or gentle as my lady, Alabama. She's fierce and strong and hard, moves so fast and loves so loudly. But I go back to her, always. I go back to her.

Damnit YHWH,
I'm so drunk on your love I can't be mad at you. I see you toss the laso around the moon and bring her to me, and I see you toss me on a plane and toss me toward the North. You're one of those crazy foolish lovers, you'll stop at nothing to prove your love. You've one upped all my other courters, I face it. You've won. I'm sliding my fingers around yours and we're going to walk slowly now, toward change and madness and fury and growth. But I trust you, I'm mad for you, have no sense left in me. It's all heart from here on out, and you own that now. I'm crazy about you, YESHUA. We're going to be together, be together, be together from here on out. Empire or Alabama or somewhere in the great north wet. We're in this together, I swear.