I remember our days and nights at Big Sur, you were my imperfection angel.
You wanted, just enough and you allowed your dreams to die.
You enchante me by speaking careless words and you made me smile and laugh when you spoke nonsense. We danced with the Pacific, when the drink kicked in.
You loved the Pacific and I loved you.
You told me often, “Johnnie, I am nineteen, no-one looked at me, like you do. You give me mercy, accept me, ugly, dirty and used-up.
I wrote her a poem.
Baby girl, baby love.
All of us slumber in the need of love,
we are careless and foolish,
we accept blackness,
knowing the payment.
My beautiful girl,
you ain’t done yet,
all of us fly away with careless wings,
we believe we are invincible and we learn.
We are just butterflies,
riding the wind of time,
hoping for a proper ending.”
Dear Angie, she smiled and she brought me closer. We danced for the liar’s moon and the midnight stars. We danced barefoot in the cold Pacific sea. She whispered, I like the darkness, I like the impossible and I want everything. I will break your heart Johnnie.
I kissed her long and sweetly, I told her. Who is going, who is staying? We are vagabond People and I know you can’t hold the wind and can’t control the sea. We have tonight and let’s’ make this never ending.