Ok, so I feel like the shit from the demons in hell and I don't know what's wrong. (Uh.. slight hyperbole there). My head hurts, my throat hurts, I'm dizzy, and dehydrated, but it hurts to drink anything that's not hot.

I really feel like reading some Tolkien, but my head hurts too bad to concentrate on anything besides Kyle.

He drove over yesterday and spent ten euhporic hours with me. :) Sigh.

I'm way too on the verge of extreme illness to go into explanation...

So here's a poem I wrote last night. It's about when we sloshed through a creek. (Not really a creek, but close enough)

"In the Creek"

Standing in the creek,

we watch the fallen limbs

of a sedated tree.

The colors hang down like

summer wisteria in the wind

of a porch swing.

And the light on the leaves

is chartreuse as caterpillars in June,

or women who are neon.

Beneath the beauty of swooping foliage

is your freckled foot, swift through

the water of adders unknown.

Each simple twig brushes

the leg like a venomless decoy.

But me,

I'm not shy with the snakes;

I'm shy with you.

So I turn my head,

survey for serpents;

feel your hands

talk with my scarf.

It's always peaceful here

in the lucky duck pose

of connecting smiles

and wet jeans -

cuffs rolled up in a tribute to Grease.

For the last time today,

we are feeling the sodden twists

of fishing passing by in frantic escape.

We leave our enchantment,

(kiss)

and you wear my ring

like the moon on your finger.