Monday, February 25, 2008


i am barefeet on hardwood floors, eyes locked on ceiling fan blades, exhales for the sails of ships, coffee brewing carelessly, singing along so quietly. i am looking up from the ditch i kicked up from the dust. i am looking up, with my hands tucked neatly into my pockets. in my subtle way. i explode in silence, in my subtle ways. you won't forget. you won't forget me. you'll try to get me.

i have a strong sense of self. i am always eying the lines. balancing upon them. stumbling in and out. stumbling defiantly, definitely, through the deontology of day to day. i do what i can. i make do. i make the most of what i can do, when i can. and what i want the most, is to lay and laugh in bed. to look up from the covers we've uncovered, and find our smiles beaming back down onto us. perfection only exists in dreams and moments. i've become a connoisseur and collector of them both. i pull them out of the air and tuck them in beside me. beside you. beside us.

i want to learn and love and learn from love and love to learn. i want homemade french toast. i want to do the crossword, while you read the paper. i want neat lines in static houses where we scream only above the roar of love and life. organically and orgasmically.

i know who i am. i found myself derailed. but i know who i am. i look up from the bed to the spinning of blades. the rotations we become. the rotations we've become. my arms outstretched. and i smile. i gave myself some time to be stupid. we all need some time to be stupid. you just need to know when to sober up. before it's too late. before you're looking down, digging around, while the dust settles around you.

i am barefeet on hardwood floors and ready for long baths. and i'll try to get you. i'm always trying to get you.

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