Porches

For some reason, all I can think about today is sitting on a porch, quiet and easy. A number of porches great and small trundle through my head.

I think of a screened in porch in Dos Rios. It's cold and raining and I'm walking back and forth playing guitar to the thundering sound of the river below. I also think of that same porch some warm, warm night and eating nachos and talking and laughing that heavy, dizzying laughter with the sort of relaxation that comes with fierce love and a well played buzz.

I think of stooping it up in New Orleans, a plastic cup of whisky and shredded lettuce in my hand and things about to tip to the hilariously wrong. And me wanting to inhabit my drunken self back then and tell Mercedes that she'd never guess it, but we would both be parents to infants in a few short years.

I think of hot days sitting on the wooden beams of the porch in Chico, typically with a beer and a smoke. I want to go back to that day I saw Biffy, just barely of adult age, walking off to the laundry room with that smile that makes the world seem okay. I want to tell her that soon I'm going to make her my one and only, that soon everything I knew about love will be tossed out the window for her to re-teach.

I think of sitting on a porch in San Francisco with Corado after a frustrating attempt at playing music together, and after things had sort of fallen apart with our friendship. There was that heavy silence of discomfort and fear of swaying a delicate balance. For some random reason, I wanna go back and tell him that there may come a time when he feels the need to walk backwards up a hill to watch the evening sky over the water fade from electric blue to black, and for fuck's sake he should do it.

And I try to foresee a porch on a house that may one day be mine. I see myself drinking a cup of coffee on a cold morning. I see myself sitting down on one of those glorious spring evenings that just make you feel sexy and softly playing some acoustic guitar. I see friends there for a visit, sitting around in folding chairs and Riley sitting on the steps and laughing at some internal joke he wasn't going to share, music coming from inside (I'm thinking maybe Sonny Boy Williamson) as well as the smell of dinner that's almost done.

It feels good y'all.