August Evening

August eve 082215

August evening.  Blue, dry, wood smoking, cigar smoking.  Hot air balloons drift overhead, like a TV show.  Can’t connect without video.  Lovely woman, casual chat.  Blue darkens and Blind Faith sings Can’t Find My Way Home.  Great choice my soul brother.  Cause I’m wasted and I can’t find my way home.  Been there, miss that.  The crickets are blasting.  Seems like eternity since I last listened.  Where are my friends passing the joint and popping the beers?  Where is Kenny and his 8-track vibrating Dark Side Of The Moon as we cruise, Perhachs to Colonial Park, laying in a field as UFOs circle around us?   What has become of living in the moment, one with the music?  I light another cigar as the fire dances back to life, and Radiohead sings Everything In Its Right Place.  Stars appear.


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