As summer makes its grand-ending, 39 strings, harp, worn over. Air-taste so sweet, we laugh and laugh as if to say. Goodbye. So long necklace-beads of sweatbands Mari-Gras- bass to the sole of our shoes, still dancing, muddy, middle-toe rubbing index, said we’d stayed up all night to watch the sun play tricks on us. Bless us all our days.    As if to say, till we meet again, Toni Morrison,

Mesmerizing one sun to another, hips so thirsty, we drink, blue waters, ice-so-cold til our tounges quiver, let the ghost rise, high beyond the beams of 88′ degrees in 2019.

Wonder “how-she made it over” In the shady black and blue ink. Correcting the eyes of millions – to read- to read- to love and pause…

I’m not saying this right..man o-o-o man,  fe-e-l me, girl. cmon. feels like a cry, traveling, made its way from my ankles, only now, it’s standing in front of me, feels like, God’s shoulder, I can get a good lean in. 

and the words,  just won’t come in right.

this ain’t goodbye,

we’ll be reading, it will last a lifetime- your kindness sis. Krissy