What Happened Before You Disappeared

We stood in the middle of the woods, surrounded by weirdos and burnouts in bandanas, dancing, crazed, to the beat of drum music. You shuffled uncomfortably, your movements not in time with the rhythm, your face contorted into a sour glare.

"I'm leaving," you said, and you handed me a piece of paper. A flight itinerary. Fuck. I couldn't make out the words on the page, it's like they were in another language, and my throat started closing up in a panic.

"Leaving to where?" I asked.
"There's this field," you said, "this field in the middle of nowhere that I need to stand in the center of."
I stared at you.
"There's a portal there," you said. "To the next dimension. I finally found it."
I swallowed hard.
"Will you come back?"
"Don't try to stop me, okay?" Your only reply.
"Please hold me." My response. So you did. You held me there, in the middle of a dance party, suspended between time and space, your heart beating against the side of my face, louder and louder like a broken washing machine, until I was swallowed whole by it, eaten by the void and spit out again. I stood there with you as the lights grew dim, being recycled over and over again by the pumping of your breath and blood, hurtled to a point of light in the distance that spoke to me, and said, "Dust turns to dust, and ashes to ashes."
"I fucking love you," I said.
Your silence spoke the rest.

SPRING TIME!!!

The spring time DOES things to me, man. It makes me VOLATILE and CRAZY and ALIVE. There's a WIND blowing THROUGH me that's taking away all the DEBRIS of WINTER, all the LIES of my FORMER, all the HATRED I've been BOTTLING. I want to SCREAM and be LOUD and never stop TALKING. I want to make NOISE and make CHANGES and LOTS OF THEM. I want to go to BOULDER and drink TEA, I want to get in the CAR and just DRIVE, I want to just LOOK at someone and already know how to LOVE them. And I DO. My intuition is on POINT, and I am one with the EARTH, in all its CONFUSION and COLLISION and TOM-FUCKERY. I feel like I'm SPINNING in constant ORBIT around everything that MATTERS, like I'm HURTLING THROUGH SPACE at A MILLION MILES AN HOUR, toward the POINT I'm supposed to INHABIT, wherever that may be. And I can't wait for SUMMER, but at the same time I'm LOVING this INSANITY that comes from the sun TEASING me, the cold fronts BOMBARDING me, the Colorado weather KILLING MY INSIDES. But it's a BEAUTIFUL death.
(You just WAIT and SEE what raises from the grave.)