i'm on a beach trying to look windswept
wondering if i'm in the place where so many conquerors before me stood, both of us looking for the same thing,
uncharted lands to make our own.
and a wave crashes, and a mullet jumps, and i hear a seagull cry and i think that there are two types of men who fall in love.
men who become comfortable and reckless with their love, wielding it like a small boy would wield a gun, showing it to all of his friends but not bothering to unload it, and holding it without caution and reverence.
these men care not for the love it's self, but rather for how it makes them feel, powerful.
then there are the men who treasure the love they've found, care for it like a garden
they tend it with great patience hoping to cultivate every seed sown.
but worried that winter will one day come and the once vibrant garden will be desolate.
finally looking windswept on a beach where the pelican meets the albatross and both look puzzled
and i take a measurement, 29 paces to the shore line. my life may be measured in increments of passing time.
i choose to put those little moments of time into threes and call them pop songs and judge everything around me based on them.
and back into my car i look to my right and i'm reminded why i'm here, and i look up past the sun roof and into the mouth that god holds open like a child trying to catch the rain and the drop falls and i take a hand into mine and i drive us, anywhere we'd like to go.
-Michael Waskom, 2008