Quite suddenly,
Miraculously,
Happy music permeates the air
Between breaths and flyaways, as the sun falls onto the dashboard, even miles away.
As if spring has finally arrived - unannounced,unexpected.
Full of hope,
Budding.

the chesire cat/ chipped porn pink nails/ champagne happiness.

Some Sunday afternoons I like
Crammed full of to-dos, purpose, obligations;
And sometimes I like
Them just filled, minute to minute
With an infinite playlist, iced tea, and
Hot-housing a couple of new freckles on a broken deck chair.

How is it that when I wasn't looking
You snuck up?

Unbeknownst to them
They were
Both looking for cardiac resurrection.

Eleven weeks to the end of 2009.
Where did the other forty-one go?

Coachella, baby, Coachella.

(Reality check - must first overcome aversion to crowds & heat)

It must be like trying to start a fire with damp wood;
Coaxing stubborn inertia out of its emotional cocoon.
'Throw a flint', some say.
I think, 'Hmm. I'll get the fire extinguisher ready'.

The thing about mycoplasma is you never know which came first -
Lethargy/ depression/ inertia/ boredom.

But occasionally, just occasionally
Something happens.
Short messages that stoke the dormant,
New ways that remind us
Of lessons learnt before.
Things can get better.

Give it a chance, she said over lunch.
And just like that, the box was sealed;
The year's grief over.
Mothers always know.

Sometime between
The first myth-busting cigarette break and
Watching the sun come out between curls of clouds,
Change.
As Sigur Ros accentuated hushed pre-dawn conversations
There was excitement in the premonition of the new
And comfort of the familiar.

Some people say
That you'll always know, right from the start; even if in retrospect.