one week of western splendor marks my mundane and southerly existence as even more so. karaoke night lets me remember what it’s like when dove’s cry and how much i miss my friends. the coolest part of charlie brown’s hotel bar is that it isn’t cool. i saw her who i kissed once in july while missing a meteor shower more than a mile in the sky. an army shirt marked battle with old boyfriend. tears saw i but nothing to do. dave with undrunken stumble led marching outdoors.

five dollar bowling on denver’s eighty-fifth and i was the king of the world. eight lanes full and many planes mistaken for stars. before that, eighties ladies night left me dancing with myself with another. afraid to let my movements speak for me. an archangel of red on red and antipathy of light and sound.

boulder’s saturday night made me nostalgic; for sunday morning would be burdened with those left and leaving. angels never answered and some called for an encore. i was proud of my friends. i sold shirts and records, with tight shirt of patrick’s and a big smile all my own. i had an admirer caught staring. it felt good to be an object of attention and nervous smiles. another was there who i had seen on wednesday. she held my attention with blackred rose run eyes. english and philosophy. ‘as yes is to if,love is to yes’ her redmaking smile of a petalplucking mouth left me warm and pink.

hours and day and night upon lines leading me back here from there. colorado was home for a while and now this house not a home feels homlier than before. i wish i were still a mile above. a week’s relief from a thousand kilogram life upon my shoulders beneath my feet inside my bed. i nearly didn’t return.