With Me or Not With Me

I'm thinking soap and bubbles.

Not water, but there is running involved.

Sunshine and blue skies and 70 degree but not humid.

Spring and summer, on the other side of noon.

Grass to beach to sunset and alcohol drinking -

in a good way - like

Dusk and Summer - good album.

I drink every day.

I'll drink one for you.

It's 9pm here.

A windy sunset on a beach.

Perhaps a thunderstorm instead.

I'd love to see another tornado.

Will you drink beer, wine, or cocktail?

Red, Cabernet Sauvignon

for a beach-side thunderstorm. Cabernet is a good choice.

Straight from the bottle down the beach in the wind and rain.

Picture perfect for a water-proof camera.

Thunderstorm strikes 5pm.

White-crest inclement waves crushing

sand castles and pillars no longer causing worry.

On the beach enjoying

the 5pm thunderstorm

with my friend that needs cheering up.

We've a bottle of Cabernet and no glasses to be found.

Also not to be found: umbrellas, rain jackets, schedules.

Not idle, but walking, running, soaking

in the rain and the day as the sun sets behind

a dark grey horizon lit by lightening

frying fish a mile away.

It's you and whoever you want it to be,

be that me or not me,

not the deep contemplation of the worried,

but the relaxed intent of nothing

surrounding and swirling within.

The Cabernet is in a green bottle.

A big bottle with a black label

and a long leg wearing a red high-heel shoe

and a red felt glove on the side and a

really big hat with a long black brim.

It’s 8:22pm here and we feel

like pancakes or those cheating waffles.

You’re in Korea or Guam or Manchester

and I am on the sand, noting the footprints

left behind, forgotten and reinvented

in the minds of those who worship

Him, like He is the guy who says

He’ll be home by 9am but if

He’s not you’ll wait

until death and due you part

to waste life away like eroding grains

of sand or rock, and the lady with the red shoe

and leg on the label reminds us to feel

for a moment

as though we’re pictures

on green glass

to drink down.

I don’t care if He has much of a stove.

I don’t care if He makes it home.

I care about this label and the leg in it, the glove

that follows its curves

and the hat brim that invades

the frame. I don’t care

where this goes,

but I’m here for breakfast

around 7pm, and good morning

to you at 10:24am, I hope

it’s a better morning than the last.