Bare feet. I'm not bare feet,
but I love bare feet. My bare feet that is.
I love the feeling of my
left big toe rubbing against the
toe beside it. I call it Toe #2.
However, I don't love the feeling of my
right big toe rubbing against
the toe beside it.
I love the way mud squishes
between my toes, the way grass tickles
my sole, the way the sun
warms my calluses. I love my bare
feet because they allow a
continuum with the earth and myself.
Rain. I'm not rain, but I love rain. I
love the smell of the wet dirt,
the wet asphalt, the wet brick. Not that
they didn't smell good before,
its just that the rain makes them better,
somehow. I love the feeling of the
rain on my skin. Its nature's
way of saying, "You need a bath."
I love how the rain makes
the world reflect on itself; two worlds,
one on top of the other in a
messy coalition of beauty.
Skin. I'm not skin, but I love skin. My skin,
that is. I love how warm I am.
It makes people want to hug me tight,
but I don't mind, I love hugs.
I say I don't but I do. I love the clay
underneath my fingernails.
It's not the most attractive thing in the
world, but I love it. I love
the paint that I'll find in the strangest places.
My skin absorbs it as if it
were already part of me. I love the freckle
on my right hip. Its lovely and brown.
Baby tooth. I'm not a baby tooth, but
I love a baby tooth. My
baby tooth, that is. It's name is Tiny Tim.
I love the fact that its an adult
tooth, but looks like a baby tooth. It doesn't
touch the teeth on either side of it.
It must want to be alone or else I think it would
snuggle up next to another tooth. I love the noise Tiny
Tim makes when I push my
tongue beside it and exhale. It's a faint
whistle, just loud enough for
me to hear it and me alone.
The sunset. I'm not the sunset, but I love
the sunset. Not that I have
anything against the sunrise, its beautiful,
but there's something about
the sunset that makes me fall in love. I love
its colors. The sunset's colors
are similar to the changes of the seasons;
the cool blue and refreshing
yellow catches your eye like the skies of
spring; the subtle pink excites
you like the opportunities of summer; the
orange and red calm your
hysterics like the falling leaves of autumn's
rein; the black of night lulls
you to sleep with the stars mimicking the
glisten of freshly fallen snow.
I love the promise of a sunset. The promise that
today will end and tomorrow
Who am I? I'm the freedom
of wonderfully dirty bare feet. I'm the
lover of rain's reflection.
I'm the secret admirer of a hug's affections.
I'm the piper of Tiny Tim's tunes.
I'm the observer of every sunset's rainbow.
That you didn't know, I bet.