Love Like Her

It is dark yet the pages call to me.  Cofffee, a cigarette, and the words will flow.  No precision or exactitude just seconds being wasted instead of days being spent.  And how are they spent?   Pining over the past.  Respecting myself and reasuring my honor yet there is love outside my door waiting for me to explore.  People with the will to speak, some callow some pleasant, all victims of circumstance and fortune.  Some with bawdy proposals and others with friendly gestures.  And the good ones are cherished.  Joan, Keith, Stacy; my good feelings when the world comes crashing down around me.  Yet I felt love the other day and, wonder of wonders, i began to beleive.  Memory and thought; it is an escape yet a primal, basic one for me.  Like breath on the window and names written in condensation.  Like breath period.  Love, my love is ancent.  It is as if in some previous life I was granted it, given it to use, and now I remember it's rush.  It doesn't fade like that name in condensation nor does it fall to condescention.  Instead it inspires to read of good times of simplicity.  My life is unstable with many unknowns.  Structure has been shattered yet through it I will be renewed.  Its a cleansing where all but the most important is flushed away with the churning water.  Love and fishing and iving life fulfilled through them.  Finding my place and settling there but not wanting to until I am sure it is right.  I am sure it is not here nor there nor there.  It is a place of reason, sensible thought and both escape from and appreciation for the creature comforts.  A little adventure and a smile and waking up dreaming of a love like her's.  Like her.