UCLA

When I’m home it’s three laps around the golf course then ten sprints up the stairs to the sand and back again. You ask me what I’m running from and I serve the question right back to you In a clear blue Nalgene stamped with the letters of our alma mater Go Bruins. Jet lag has me up before sunrise and asleep on the family room couch by 9pm. Out here we don’t need anything but a set of eyes to catch every star in the sky No filter
When someone says you’re beautiful it feels heavy like carrying a bucket of water and sand to and from our temporary castle. All of its implications are begging to be washed away. Still I like the way your mouth looks when the words leave your body