27 Powers

Sunday, June 04, 2006

All Pure

Stepping off the plane and walking out that front door
The winds brush my face frozen
The thoughts of living here once, but no more
Her car pulls up and I get in

All Pure

The dog whose nose is wet on my face
The bark, the muddy paws

All Pure

And I am, just as I am

Freedom, dreams, wanting, yearning for that freedom to run away

Jump on the next plane to Italy
with her.
Away
Could I? I wonder...
Could I really? Yes. I think I could.
And all the thoughts that follow...

All Pure

To wake up as the journalist who photographs around the world

A flat in Paris
A man in Italy

Or the Hippy who lives in her van at the beach who paints her dreams

Pure desire

As pure as my mind and hand that writes this
As pure as the music blasting in my ears
As pure as the crazy imaginings that flow through my heart

All Pure

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