is there anything as lovely as a thunderstorm

the world blanketed in gray, the soft pitter patter of warm fat drops

nine times out of ten the view from the airport is of planes, saint louis is no different

at least i have the storm for comfort

a warm fuzzy blanket to block the horror of a business park, urban planning at it’s least successful

the farther from my cave the more i feel like me again

maybe my self imprisonment went on slightly too long

or i am just excited to conquer something new

and the cute girl headed to orlando gave me her number for when she gets back to dallas, so there is always that

although i think she was a touch young she liked my peppermint butler tattoo, and i liked her smile

i doubt we will ever talk again, but the things she whispered into my ear midflight from dallas

the flight to boston is bouncy and smooth, and i need a nap, the soft fluffy clouds and daydreams of whispered naughty things

i would rather dream of another

instead i read some bukowski and chuckle in my head before the sleep comes knocking

instead it was peek a boo for an hour and a half with most gorgeous lady on the plane

she was nearly a year old and had the brightest smile

landed in the snow after circling the gray blue ocean

a series of tunnels and bunker hill and the thrill of exploration, no longer confined to the belly of the steel bird, now i feel i can truly fly