She rests easy

She rests easy on the mind, but heavy. Her movements are never hurried. Her mind never screaming steam fitting ready to blow like mine. She does not drink whiskey.

I met her with a beard and a bottle of bourbon. She did not know how to two step. I did not know how to talk to someone so amazingly astoundingly beautiful with eyes like polished garnet, eyes like lost positrons forever falling past untold event horizons.

I told her something about wine, blood, and red rocks.

Stupid country songs about girls make sense in the pale noen halo and under the cascading swirling silver angels shining from silver globes on the ceiling.

Her mahogany hair matted down and shone with her sweat. The copper glistening skin of those around purples and reds in the club lighting. Her white skin for me. Her salt neck for me. Her small mouth for me and mine.

We left and drove and drove interminably driving the drunks home. We were sober from drink, drunk with air, dry and glowing and desert. Giggling laughing and noise behind us, we sit in shared silence. Anticipation. Something else.

She walks into the room, showered. Unashamed of wearing little. She makes it hard to breathe. My my square jawed steely eyed nerve, all that I am and all that I have, leaves me in her and is lost to her. Truth.

True things are whispered. And gasped. And lost forever. In greater bounding. Truths. Life is appetites. Mine are great. I want much and better. Morning.

That morning, officially the last remaining hope of us being a one night stand. We stood on a cliff and held hands. Her fingers through mine. I explained true things. Rocks pushing and bulging. The appetites of time. Lost to her. I said something ridiculous about fate.

I don't believe in fate. I don't. I said it.

She stood on the cliff and held my hand, in the dwindling coliseum, the crumbling cathedral to the red sand desert dunes hundreds of feet high towering into the graveyards and testimonies of brackish river sands and conglomerated river gravel calcite beauty.

We knew sand and cedar and sage. And each other. In the riparian moonlight along the cottonwoods and tailwater stream.