supposed to be

she should be in the midwest where there are hot rains and white winters, where she can jog, inhaling crisp air.
she should be home.
he should quit his job.
he should leave the country.
she should stay in the ocean.
where somebody is supposed to be, where they are comfortable, where the air blows your life like a ballon instead of sucking it up like a lemonade through a straw. where somebody isn't supposed to be - where you find your why's and what's and whatever's, with the stretching to fold you into your bed in the evening and wake up hungry and unsatisfied. where you are - licking from the plate, hanging on, sucking up smoke, fingering a dream or two, drinking vermilions.

is there a state where we really know the comfort we need... or want? i know that i can depend on my constant shifts in perspective, my waves of insecurity and white waters of certainty. i know i can ride and sometimes i realize something is good. sometimes i realize that that something is bad.

there's a glorious rain outside my window right now. i'm warm and i've done nothing all day.
it has been wonderful.
good night.