Ian my brother. A gentlemans' gentleman. A thinker of great thoughts and a doer of great deeds. His mind is something of an egg that you would like to crack just to see what is inside. AND he looks great in a bunny suit!

I would be a wreck without this man.

Ian,
spinning around the morning, thought that i might have lost some of my adventurous spirit but found the two of us walking through easter into the hot sun, trashed, enlightened, photogenic and loud mouthed,
bathed in petals.
the mornings have offered many days to me, ian. yet the sick morning light that unflatters everyone sheds kind eyes on the two of us.
the after midnight hours in the middle zone between our houses is a safety zone, a place to visit dreams and nightmares together.
i wandered by your house when you didn't live there to accidentally meet the kind people who occupied your space. i walked into your living room with my cat in a box on thanksgiving. i crept in after the last call to drink water and leave water behind.

ian, one wheel of my portland existence.
friend like no other:
liar, truth teller, human-lover, wino.
soul seeker, adventurer, survivor,
stay in my life
and grace the lucky few who know you
with the sweet honey of your true self.