Last night we went to the ocean to celebrate the full moon. We brought a host of nutritious foodstuffs and parked ourselves on a lifeguard tower. We talked and dance-wiggled when we got cold. The moon was bright and eye-catching. It doesn’t matter what we said, really, we were just there together and talking can be like the grunts baboons make in the trees.

Sometimes communication is just to let them, let yourself know you’re there. It’s a shaking of the vocal chords the way a wind ripples the face of the waters, the way it touches the ear lobe and howls slightly or majestically depending on its ferocity.

Last night I dreamt that I was shot up through a trap door in the roof into the skies. My biological family was there. I got shot up and soared and reached this dense spot and kept going and when I got through the dense spot it was clearer and clean. I felt light and, naturally, high. Of course it was exhilarating. After being in the clear, I was accosted and disgusted by the amount of pollution on the way down.

I was worrying about how I would land and then I had an image in my head of being already on the ground, never even left the ground, laying down in a bed imagining the whole thing.

Last night the moon was so bright, is luscent a word? It seemed luscent- do you catch my drift? can you feel my ripple on the waters?
I caught its lunascent deep within and this love from inside tilted my chin, my head spinned,
Eyes big
And we grinned….