swatting flies
2002-07-09 ~ 4:46 a.m.

okay, scotch in hand...i love this finish. i love glenmorangie...i truly do.

and so a toast...

and i will close my eyes and think of Hester's voice...and our laughter...and all those other good things...

i will remember forever...my 18th birthday. drunk and stupid, we were. Hester actually drank vanilla extract for the alcohol in it. and in the minutes before awake became passed out we wrote my birthday poem. So, a drink for Hester and Ashley.

Swatting Flies

At least i'm not falling down,

hitting myself on the objects below.

instead i float here, stuck.

pondering where i am.

along with your mother,

we ran naked down the beach.

chasing the firefly,

who had stolen my soul.

we spotted the great tree,

far beyond the dusky horizon.

and i was reaching to the sky.

but you.

you were suspended there.

and i couldn;t find what i lost,

in the wind.

i can't.

can't keep my eyes from closing.

soul from slipping.

delirium tremors shaking my fist,

wanting, needing, desperately seeking.

a life of purity.

~Me, Jennifer, Ashley 7/1/1993

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