Come roll the dice for me...

The weather is changing rapidly, from sun and heat to low-hanging clouds and winds that set my hair flying and my lips smiling.

Autumn is my favorite time of year, and this year is a reminder of what has happened, what memories were created in the cold air that stick to me with more strength than summer flings.

Sometimes scents lock it in.

And then I'm back in front of a street light on Beverly, lips connected with his, body wracked with shivers, learning his face again, looking at those wild eyes, those cheekbones, the cornstalk gold of his hair as we press into each other so tightly.

It is me, driving up PCH, bonfires to my left, constellations formed on the beach, windows down, heater blasting with IAMX filling the space around me.

Alone, at a farmer's market, sweaters and scarves.

Haunting a club in Los Angeles, in and out, dancing, sweating, my own world. Recooperating at a diner afterwards, book open on the table in front of me, watching the 3AM stragglers and scensters stagger in and flop into the red vinyl booths, laughing and flirting while sweat dries on my body, peeling sticky clothing away from my skin, staring at myself in the mirror over the sink, light blue walls behind me.

Alone and happy.

Following his car up the freeway for a late night rendevous spent in an oversized bed with his body, a back like steel that I scraped my teeth and tongue along.

And the fears, the anxiety, the roommate/ex-boyfriend combo who I never should have dated, never should have touched, should have listened to my gut.

But it got me out, got me wandering again, searching and exploring, recognizing my need for a safe place, a secure place. Started the couchsurfing and the long walks during the day, trying to get away, trying to avoid that which I always attempted to call home but never truly believed.

It's autumn. My body sings, my body wanders, moves with the rhythms of the clubs and waits to feel the bite of wind and rain, waits for the cold, open windows and the feeling of heat beside me, trapped together beneath sheets.

In a few weeks I will be on a plane to New York. Northeastern autumn, something new.

I have my books, my music, and my need to fly.

Let's go.