the rush

we twice hitchhiked the distance
but only in our dreams,
absent without leave
on an astral plane

your smile is the conch shell
I never wanted to lose,
I picked it up from the sand
on Pismo beach, traveled on to Big Sur.

held to my ear and found it to be
a wellspring of wisdom
to myself, the naive

ironically it is you
who should be young
you the old soul,

your intuitive mind
the instrument of chaos,
masterfully strung

raising harmonies,
soul searing inquiries
into what we truly achieve

when we traverse
the divide,
dare to listen

to the rush of the sea,
the billion whispers
of humanity

and the thousand miles
of memories that lie between,
we twice hitchhiked the distance,
but only in our dreams