*DISCLAIMER: This blog is 100% truth except for the parts I made up

Monday, October 1, 2012

"This is for the benches and the people who sit upon them."

The first time you kissed me I went to bed without brushing my teeth.

The first time you kissed me you tasted like summertime, like poetry and steel guitar strings, like sidewalk chalk and sitting on park benches.

I belong to "the tribe that reads" and I belong to the tribe that sits on benches, and baby, so do you.

We belong to the tribe that sits on benches and we belong to each other, and I belong under your arm with my head on your chest, and that's really all I've ever wanted.

I'm not trying to rebel, I'm just trying to be human.

I'm not trying to rebel, I'm just trying to find my soul.

You told me that I'm not indie and I said, "Baby, I could have told you that."

And I said, "I know, I was never trying to be."

I'm not trying to escape society, to break social norms, to be different just for the sake of being different, because no matter how we try, we're really all the same. 

All of our branches reach towards the same sky, and under the surface our roots all grow together and interconnect until we're all a part of the same tree.

And our roots grow deep and our roots grow far and they graft together and form neural networks that span the entire globe.

See, on a cellular level we're all made of the same stuff and most of our DNA is identical, and I'm always looking for those similarities.

I'm always looking for somewhere I fit, for somewhere I belong, and with you I know I've found it.

Yeah, we're both made of the same stuff.

Yeah, we're made of something entirely different, and you're bright yellow and I'm dark blue.

And you can fly but my feet don't leave the ground.

And you sink but I always float.

And you're tomorrow and I'm today

And that's why we complement each other.  That's why we fit like matching puzzle pieces.

Our fingers fit together like our lips fit together like our hearts fit together, like our souls intertwine

And I know the calluses on your palms like you know the curvature of my spine.

Like I know the way your chest rises and falls

And I count the freckles on your cheekbones the way I count the stars.

You know, you're always on my mind, baby.

Like when I wake up and I wish we could make waffles together and I would bring the banana popsicles and you would bring the whipped cream.

Like when the golden leaves on bright white aspen pillars whisper your name and beg me to carve our initials into their trunks, and even the sagebrush and cactus remind me of you.

Like when it rains and I wish we could run outside, strip our shirts off and dance, because imagine how free we would feel with the ice cold water droplets stinging our bare skin and washing away our fears and the knots in our backs the way it washes away the smoke in the air

And my sidewalk chalk sketches.

And then you would kiss me again, and this time it would taste like autumn, like composition notebooks and cinnamon, like sweatshirts and the smell of your cologne

And when we open our eyes we'll know what forever feels like.