What I would say to the sea

I had an unexpected bout of loveliness today. In keeping to myself, so often, I forget what it’s like to spend time elsewhere, and with people other than my roommates and my family.My tolerance level for socializing has been so low lately, that it was so nice to find myself at a friend’s house, happily chatting away for about 6 hours. Drinking wine. And then, being taken out for a wonderful dinner. Sometimes, life is nice to me when I least expect it.
I’m not sure how my body will feel tomorrow, though, since I haven’t had any alcohol since my play reading in march, and I get so dehydrated that I just might be ridiculously hung over tomorrow. I’m just not good with the whole processing of any kind of drug thing. I’m delicate, what can I say.
Tomorrow is more peopleness, as far as I know, Claire is bringing her dogs over and we’re going to wander around Trout Lake for awhile. I haven’t been to Trout Lake since this time last year, or possibly before, the one time that Ann and James and I went and read love poems out to the lake from the dock, and danced around barefoot with our eyes closed, and wrote and sang songs to the trees.
I don’t read enough poetry to bodies of water. Lakes, seas, ponds or puddles. The world would be a significantly brighter place if we all had numerous poems memorized for the occasion of coming into contact with a drop or more of water. Poems for all occasions, whether making eye contact with our lovely reflections in a thin layer of oily rainbow puddle, or staring out at unending waves. Reciting away and into the wind, or back into droplet echoes again. Six or seven poems would be enough, depending on how much you enjoy memorizing. I already have one mostly memorized, one that I could use for nearly every rainy day grey moment. One day I would like to be able to comfortably sit around in the shady sunshine of a park with a lake, well entertained with loved ones, unafraid of being out in the open air. Well protected within my own skin.