everything in its right place

I've felt this before,
walking outside and feeling bumps of rock mixed in concrete
through a pair of new, white ankle length socks.
It's clear this is a conglomerate, raised quartz and granite,
my skin just reduced to pores,
words stripped down to letters on a keyboard -
my voice in waves.
Time has, of course, passed.
If I had more than 10 dollars in my pocket
i'd drive west
Big Sur, or Eugene, Oregon
and sleep with the rhododendrons.
And yet - I drink from the same cup,
striped with primary colors and I put my feet up
on the same bench.
"And there will be time," I think
over and over in different locations that I have
seen before.
This aint no love song.

I dream of a time when I'm just leaving,
When I can call old friends and old lovers
from a garden by the coast and say,
"Oh, I'm doing great. Its not much, but I'm happy"
maybe a dog, maybe a free spirited family.
"let us go then, you and I"

I dont want to live this life like a damselfly,
even though its true
our bodies will fill the ocean blue.