Pearls

Friction.

In my jet-lagged mind even the tiniest of thoughts is enough to be an irritant.  Enough to distract and bounce like a loose ping-pong ball against bad angles.  I'd rather just shut down bits and pieces until I have nothing but a sand laden pattern that requires no colors or inquisitions...just nothing.

In my horizon there are colors and lights that need no attention...just a simple nod towards something that my brain can register.  Okay, I see you.  I recognize the sight or sound.  I process.

But instead I'd prefer your invasion...a thought of you like a tiny sand in the oyster.  I want you to rub against me, rub against a frayed brain that is trying to shut down. I want you to be the light left on downstairs...forcing me to turn and go back and acknowledge.

I want you to be the cramp in the foot, the itch on my side...I want you to remind me not to go to sleep but rather stay and play...I want you to be the sand in the sheets from a stay on the beach.  I want reminders.

I want to feel the grate of you against me, even if you are merely a thought of you.  A tiny, small piece of an idea.  A description.  A memory.  A reminder.

Sand in the sock.  Sand in the shoe.  A grain of sand against an entire black slate floor.  Doesn't matter.

Just unique.  Just you.  Fighting against me.  I feel you in my sleep, I feel you in my walk.

And your constant rub, your constant against me creates a sensation.  A constant sense of whatever you bring makes us beautiful.  Maybe only I can see as it resides inside of me...but I can see it.  I can sense it.

You...your friction, creating the perfect pearl of what I hope to find and what you add to me with the simple and constant allowance of us being together.