b & w

People always tell you to take a jar of sand from the beach so you can put your hands in it when you miss home. It’s bullshit because I’d rather put my hands in your salty hair than in a cold little jar. I’d rather stick my legs out the window of your truck than into double layers of socks, and I’d rather my mouth taste like honey and blueberries, not a breath of dry wind. Vivid and sweet and heavy when the night trains whoosh past the bougainvillea bushes, and they rustle like feathers on the wire fence. I climb over it to brush the flying train with my fingertips. My still figure is defiant of its rush? Defiance seems so definite. I wanted it to be. But for my figure to be definitively defiant I had to know for sure that the fear of the train had left me and only the remains of my resolve stood in it’s place. If had tripped on the wires and my shoelaces caught I would have undoubtedly ended up another tragic headline when my head aligned with the trains path. So I knew I was scared. Because to be not scared of death and to defy it is opposite my nature and biology. So I knew I was scared of the train. How so, then, could I insist on defying the adrenaline I felt when it passed. Same as the feathery petals I had crossed the tracks to meet and the memory’s I crossed to leave this rush was something I wanted to deny. I also wanted it to fill my body and let me forget. So I let it. So I wasn’t defying myself a rush I was defying my past and I was denying the danger. I just wanted to feel. Some people deny themselves certain things because they know how much pain they will bring when they leave. I however, was one to do the opposite, I would dive head first into the uncertain and flirt with the idea of fear. Because all I wanted was a rush and something to fill me for a moment while I let the past drift away and the future to become a distant memory. The I fell back from the fence towards the purple petals and let them embrace me. Careful not to break any one petal or sever any branch lest it sting me I waltzed through them. Purple was my favorite color. So when you get to the end of your wits and you’ve nothing left but a craving for home just think of the purples and the rush and let yourself be taken back to the memories that can let you forget.