Right now.
It felt like June in Illinois today. The sheet of humidity. I watched farmland out the window from the backseat as Jamba drove us across Virginia this afternoon. Muff sat passenger side thinking. Think, think, thinking--little knots of think. She was trying to arrive at what she has been searching for this past year. What's...what's...what is it that she's been...looking for? Think. Think. Think.
At eleven PM, Jamba was asleep on the living room floor. Muff and I drank water in the kitchen. Suddenly, it was imperative to move. We started dancing, but we quickly turned into jiggling, wagging, slashing creatures of the night. Kicking our feet in zig zags. I doubled over with laughter. Muff literally fell on the floor. "Butt-down on the kitchen floor," she just said. She is next to me right now as I type. (See photo.)
Lightening lit up the sky. We crept past the sleeping husband, onto the front porch. We sat on the wooden steps and watched the lights come on and off. Natural fireworks. LIGHT-EN-ING. LIGHT-EN-ING. LIGHT! We were silent. Everything--clear, as it always is. It started to drizzle, then to rain. So we walked back inside.
Immediately, Muff knew. Think no more--she knew. There's clarity in spontaneous dancing and midnight storms. The clarity showed her: "Oh. I needed clarity to realize how much I need clarity--or how much I'm constantly trying to have it."
And you can tell Jane, if she writes,
that I'm drunk off all these stars and all these crazy Hollywood nights.
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