Kulshan

After a jaunt along the water, witness to the sad wilt of blackberry abandon & the fragrant thick of September in Washington, I ended at my cousin's house off N. Garden. We went for a long walk & found ourselves at Kulshan - which I'd been craving - it was every bit awesome, despite aromas of "hip," "mustaches," "adorable dogs, and "irony." A raffle was taking place & we dove into it, sipping from a glass pitcher of orange blossom ipa. It seemed each set of persons to sit beside us on the picnic table family dinner style seating were drawn to our familial aura & friends were made with ease. A husband, wife & their birthday boy 24-yr-old son sat down & we spoke for hours on things reserved for 4th dates, all those small details hiding beneath the murk of surface value bs. They had a 130-lb, 1-yr-old Bernese mountain dog which I stroked endlessly. Turns out the son lives in Denver, they're like-minded & liked us enough to buy us a round & hug us & kiss our cheeks goodbye. We were fuzzy walking home, where dinner would be waiting, made from someone's boyfriend. Soon it became a double date & I fifth-wheeled it home to scratch the chin of our sable-colored black mutha fuckin cat, Poops, as mom says. I fell asleep with chocolate ice cream lips & had many a dream that felt too real.