Automatic Writing 2/5/17

Darling bring the plates to the garden. Isn't that the loveliest phrase you can imagine? I imagine saying that to you in our house of blue. A house for two. A house for me and a house for you. Darling bring the plates to the garden let's eat our tomatoes and corn in the wet August air. Let's stare at each other in soft low light as mosquitoes bite us and then I'll reach across the table and take your hand and we'll look up at the trees and talk about how much this neighborhood has changed. Darling let's take these plates to the garden, I've already wiped off the patio table. Oh my love in the summer it's a sin to eat indoors. Oh my love in the summer it's a sin to sit anywhere but here in the place we made with our love. Darling bring those plates of corn and tomatoes to the garden, I'll bring you up a cold beer. Darling I love the way the setting sun plays in the leaves of our trees. Oh my love, oh my soul here we have made a home. Something more than wood and brick. Something more than light and air and love and shadow. How can this thing we've made be more than the sum of our parts? How can this thing we've made be more than the whole of our hearts? Oh my soul, oh my love, my life, my growing tree, take these plates to the garden and let us eat there in the sunset in the wet August sunset, the air is thick with bugs and they bite at us, and I love every single one for they pull me into this moment with you. Pull me into this moment after we've finished eating our tomatoes and corn, into the moment when I push the plates aside and take your hand and stare into your eyes. Oh my love oh my soul my light my growing tree my thirsting vine I'm the love you waited for, for such a long long time. Bring the plates into the garden and there we'll eat our tomatoes and corn with salt and butter and pepper and basil and mayonnaise.