Winter Summer
It is beautiful here in Colorado. I went from a -35 blizzard out of Montreal to a week of wearing tank tops and being barefoot outside. And so we must hike! I can't believe that it's still February.
Film by Nathan Anderson
What Are We Waiting For?
I bet there are forests who miss me. Who wish I were a squirrel in their trees or a supposedly mythical mermaid in their ponds. I bet there are kisses that wish I were in them too, because they like my technique. I bet there are sunrays looking for me even now, not yet knowing I’ve gone indoors. There may also be songs wishing I’d turn them on, and others who wish I were already dancing to them. I wonder if there are dresses that wish I were wearing them, instead of someone else, or left hanging on a hanger. I bet there are houses that wish I were living in them, maybe houses that I’ll one day move in and dance through, but not yet, I haven’t even visited their towns, and the houses shift and groan their tree trunks and wonder, Why do I have to wait?
Cuz they want me, see. Cuz it’ll be that good.
And so I ask my future and all my possibilities and all my impossible perfect fantastical dreams to call for me LOUD, light road flares, use spot lights, catch me with a stage hook and reel me in, bring me close. Because if I want you and you want me, I tell my future, what are we waiting for?
It’s only ellipsis dividing us.
Let’s blow them away like breadcrumbs…
I love to long for my future, and I love when my future longs for me. It feels as good as dancing to the most kickass song, when my body predicts beats and breaks and rhythm changes, when it’s all tight and suave, like all I’ve been waiting for is right here, and I’m drinkin’ it down easy.
And really when life’s like that, when I’m drunk on dreams and slippery with time, nothing can hold me back, not rules or logic, and beauty breaks all boundaries. I burst through the seams, racing my bike down the streets, free in the world: this wildly improbable.
-Dawn Sperber
(We’Moon,
Mother Tongue Ink,
2015)
