11 May, 2004

Sundrenched Days, Liquor Soaked Nights

...she comes in colors in the air, oh everywhere, she's like a rainbow...

We get into the car. I stretch, toss my braid over the seatback as I unroll the window. Steve jerks his eyes to me in that quick way of his.

"You can let your hair down now."

My braid is half undone before his sentence is complete. Warm breeze streams through the window, twisting tangles into the mane in question. I slide into my sunglasses and out of my sandals, squirm into sighing comfort in the bucket seat.


Gossamer mist floats on the meadow like the silver cloak of fairies. Silence shushed me to sleep and birds sing me awake. A distant buzz of cow voices punctuates the quiet. Yipping howls indicate coyotes. I have never before heard coyotes.

I was startled awake hours earlier by a glorious glowing eye peering in the open window. When I woke again, it was gone, replaced by a glimmering horizon. I sleep again, undone by a long day topped with sushi and strawberry daiquiris, marinated in the effervescence of jacuzzi water.

Lisa's delicious soap awaits me in the shower.

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