THE HIDDEN TRACK

The following passages are dedicated to Leopold, to the vernacular, to certain evil women (you know who you are), to certain wonderful people(they know who they are), to soft afternoons and quiet Sunday evenings, to Fall and seeing your breath for the first time since Spring, and to Isabelle Ya Feng ... a soul slipped by like two ships passing in the still, moonlit sea.
-- Abraham Ahmed, the Surfing Beatnik



The Moment SFO Stood Still...

She walked toward me with her head down and eyes affixed upon mine; she smiled bashfully; she looked picturesque, stunning me in my position upon the earth; she was perfection. I floated to her and scooped her up with my arms; I gently pulled her into my chest and squeezed the breath from her lungs.

“My life shall fold you within, and I shall interlace myself within you” I whispered to her.   

I pressed my ear to her head and released my heart’s intentions; I fell in complete, true, and honest love with her such a magnificent sculpture of a woman created by simple atoms and cells untouched by any ‘god’ or act of phenomenon.

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