spooning

I spent the previous week in Spooner, Wisconsin, in a tiny log cabin that serves as the vessel of my most vivid childhood memories.  Unlike my previous visits to the cabin with my cousins, I had only the company of my parents.  Thus, I embarked on many solitary adventures hoping to grasp the clingy, spiderweb trails of my childhood innocence. 

I went for long bike rides down winding, wooded paths, following the deer and sandhill cranes who make the north woods their home.  I drew faces on the trees with bits of charred wood from the fire. I canoed out to an island and walked along the shore, allowing the seaweed to wrap around my ankles and affix itself to my calves in intricate swirling patterns.  These delicate swirls contrasted with the sharp, straight marks on my arms, products of last Friday’s escapades in a basement bubbling with sweat, saliva, and explorers.  That evening literally left its mark on me, as the scratches have turned into the most satisfying scars.  Oh, what stories my skin can tell!

I climbed up on the roof of the cabin most evenings to marvel at the stars and process the events of the previous year.  Those nights were particularly fulfilling, yet all of this isolated thinking and writing has made me long for my squids friends in the city with whom I can share my thoughts and dreams.

Dreams seemed to crawl into my ears like insects during the my days in the woods, and they uncoiled in the most bizarre configurations at night.  The first night I dreamt that I was sitting in a room with hedgehogs dangling from the ceiling while a woman from my past read me loveletters in multiple languages.  The next night I dreamt that I was fucking an unknown female-bodied person whose clitoris was long and thin like a tentacle.  Rather than reacting with disgust, I found her unique anatomy to be absurdly seductive.  I wound her clitoris around my fingers for what seemed like hours before I awoke in a curious sweat.  Considering that I was sleeping beneath the roof of my childhood vacation spot, the provocation of these strangely erotic dreams remains completely unknown to me.

My dear squids, I will soon live in the city where we will reunite on the shores of Lake Michigan.  I look forward to your company and the revelry that will most surely take place.