Creative: Return to Sender

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You spend money like water,” she said with a hint of disgust. But I don’t. Other than that, it was a perfect statement. Mezcal skies, punchy, contrast at level ten. Pedal stroke and the burn of minimal oxygen. Legs and lungs en fuego, mouth coated in dust. Mind racing with dozens of small tasks making it impossible to see the road ahead. The future a muddled middle gray.

Waist high grasses side lit and dew heavy.

New glasses cutting a razor sharp view through familiar territory. Again and again, the walk. Attempting to shake the web of the modern, mental splinter. Will I ever get out in front, ahead of the game or is what’s left mostly about fitting the wrong pieces in the wrong holes.

Skin down, sizzled and smoke. Eyes closed, grill closed. Waiting. Patience, deep breath and appreciation. Blazing orange. Blazing with fight and fury and history and culture and red blood cells and scales and dimension, viscosity and tensile strength. Titanium, steel, monofilament, bone and harmony. Eyes closed. Knowing how fortunate.

Appreciation. Here. Now. Nothing else. Just for this second, and this second and this second. The rest just shingles flapping in the winds of a CAT4 heading for warmer water. Squinting into the rising blue through orbs of forest green. Buffeting cumulous overhead waiting to unleash on the planned and sculpted version of life. Pawn to queen four.

(On a side note: the salmon you see above comes from “The Pride of Bristol Bay,” which is the best salmon I’ve ever had and it’s not even close. To keep the story near to home, I’ve been using a slight layer of garlic honey from Santa Fe based Honey Lovin’ Co. ) The shoes are from Hoka and are great because they are so bright they keep me from looking down.

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