The sun is far from temperate. Wind is an accommodation. And energy – that invisible wild, mind of its own, intangible thing, exists in waiting, to be a tangent from a point in you to that of another.
The sister holes in the knees of his jeans, I saw first. And the tendrils of hair set a sail on his friend, were floating points. I turned around and followed them before they could become distant markers of energy, experienced. They turned around and there we were, marked by our beauty.
Personal energy as much a mark as our physical ones. So, overjoyed to discover that when this gent passed me by, we both turned around at the same time with soothing in common. Hair shading his face he answered my curiosity about his art, “I’m a rapper.” Heat, then took on another meaning. Bring it!