Oh, it's too exhausting to argue with you anymore, so I will just lie down in the middle of the hardwood floor and cover my ears with both hands, and hum loud and long. I will be carried away on a flowery bed of ease...float down the L.A. river and then out to sea in the bright blue-white light, shimmering sea foam salty hissing and buoying, bouncing off the waves, but so far out it's mostly calm and quiet.
Floating in the orange-gold light with the birds soaring at sunset, and then ending up somehow in Greece, on someone's patio, a quiet acquiescing stranger who isn't present. Eating cheese and olives and red wine and chocolate (which had been laid out with the anticipation of my arrival), and sitting while candles are lit by their own inner flames and the mosquitoes and fireflies come out and I need to get a sweater then discover one on the back of my chair, and the air smells like flowers; big, heavy succulent ones, and the quietness is like a calming hand...no words, just salty and rough, ambivalent and smooth as the sea.
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