coming from the insides of the cells, or reflecting from the outside, light rays bend around the illusion of matter, also the choices that are the fabric of your consciousness, days spent whiling against the coldest wind as it rips your ears off, mind reeling back through copping in the
low-e, bouncing laser beams off of the chill of the baybottom, cool sunshine and whatever was left to be seen from the dusty red skys pierced by saguaro cactus, whichever, we were in love, and couldn't help but to act out the years in the way that loved us back the most. how many days sleeping at the wheel, how many nights sleeping in the backseat, vegas sparkles in my eyes, and the pacific ocean, yelling out of the bottom of my soul-heart trip into the fog into the top of my lungs, and care that comes from being scared enough of the reflection to call it out. have we landed, as the crumbling rockers and billowing yogis? we can only watch it unfold, as the lines grow, the tattoos collect, it makes no sense to me that the cells are ever tired, they are perpetual, and i am them, we are them, the organism is observed as it walks through its steps to the valley floor for sleep. tomorrow it will walk up again, humanity, the universe, a scholar, a hillbilly and mother nature's son. we do it for the vision, or more to the point, for the view. it is where we can see us best, and you too...
this is our biology...