The sun, bright, flower to flowers, causes flowers to wilt if not enough bridal showers. Bam. So sunshine and flowers flowering is about self destruction and reproduction, but in the cause of love and beauty. Bam. Bam. Sun is beautiful and loving, especially when sunlight kisses bright flowers goodmorning. Bam. Bam. Bam. Sacrifice for love and beauty. Bam.Bam.Bam.Bam. I wanted to give Sarah my love, and soak in her beauty, without taking anything from her. She wanted something….
…. From the sun, from flowers.
…. From me? Nothing?
We had been standing together on a gently rolling hill to the east of LA but still west of the deserts. We weren’t holding hands or talking much, but I still believe we were “together”. I had no reason yet to think this was my own private delusion.
The top of the hill was only about a hundred yards away. I didn’t feel any special need to go there. I thought we could take a quick break where we were, then head back. It wasn’t as if we had to summit, or climax. The top of the hill would always be there.
Without saying anything, Sarah went on alone to the top of the hill, leaving me “standing there”. The sky was a flawless, cobalt blue nothingness of complete fulfillment. I believe Sarah intended to partake of the fulfillment, and let the nothingness worry about itself, without her.
Sarah had a strange relationship to sunshine. I had a strange relationship to Sarah. Especially Sarah’s flawless skin, and her great beauty. I was aware Sarah, in her fairness, burned easily. I also, experiencing conflict and contradiction, loved it most when she got naked, risking head to toe “overexposure”, or “burn”.
“I remember it vividly. Sarah was sunbathing in her bikini. She was on that patio, in the Hollywood Hills, right next to that limpet pool,high above the water shortages of LA, far below. She was on her stomach, and had taken off the top part of the bikini, the bra, so to speak, that she might not have traces of “white” she had not intended. The straps, blocking the sun, would create pattern, or design, really remarkable. I agreed, though. The bikini top needed to come off.”
I said this to Chuck, who shared my admiration of Sarah, with only slightly less of my own self immolation.
Sarah stood beneath a heaven, heavenly sun, high heavens, and her blinking, for the sun is not to be stood in directly, stared into directly, though for her, the sun should allow an exception,
Sarah’s Sharon’s smiling through pain, loving through pain, living through pain, dying through pain,
Sarah stared into the sun, unblinking. Living on a prayer,
High heavens, unblinking!
In the form of Sharon’s Sarah’s shadow. An echo of shadow, narrow, plucked, to let her beautiful, streamlined soul, lifted on a lava rush of continental drift, pleasures, as if the silence of sun spoke to young seeds, waiting in the wings; for it is not uncommon for seeds to have wings, if you’ve ever observed a Maple.
Up there, on the summit of the hill, where Sarah stared, her soul bared, she silent and woebegone, her arms uplifted, as if she shifted into crucifixings, or levitations. Or Leviathans, or Levites,
“I loved it most when Sarah would be on her stomach, the straps of the top of the bikini unbuckled, but the cups still holding those fantastic, utterly pure because sun-unkist, white, tender, in bliss, kist-blist,” Chuck rejoindered to me.
“You couldn’t see the nipples, so if it was pornographic, it would be categorized as soft porn. I would have, could I have, turned it all into hardcore. I would have played hard ball, hardcore. Yet I was an observer to the core, and I played blue ball. It had its rewards. I was always careful not to sneak up on her. I’d let her know I was there. Then, if she wanted to face me, she had that deft way of turning around, clutching the top to her so perfectly she didn’t need to rely on no straps. It was effective, trust me,” Chuck, reminiscent, reminisced, reminisced-blist.
I said to myself this may be heaven or this may be hell. At least the developers hadn’t profaned the place.
Spam of Human Affection 
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