Maybe it’s your smile
that’s so familiar.
Or, maybe it’s your face that I’ve always known.
Our connection transcends
time and space.
We’ll keep meeting in no specific earthly place.
Maybe I’ll see you in our dreams,
or spinning in the heavens and cosmos ,
or some funny place between
technology and electric communication
beeps and dings.
However we meet, know you always have my heart
without any strings.
Seeing the bench marking your ass
from sitting down and getting
goals done –
for someone else,
it wore, but didn’t hurt.
Don’t stress about those bench, or bitch-marks,
because that won’t help your dreams hitch.
Pitch your dream to God, the Universe,
it’ll get tossed back to you.
Maybe not how you imagined,
but bigger than that.
A rolling shimmery ball,
like those iridescent soap bubbles you blew with the wind
way back when.
it’s so big and radiant,
You can’t put your arms around it,
or break it.
It’s yours –
Just another desert summer production,
always open to the public.
The sky, a screen.
Clouds – supporting parts.
Lightening and Wind get the lead roles.
across that skyscreen,
as God directs the drama,
and the music score is a classic –
Focused seemingly with a laser point stare,
Attention seems fixated, aware.
Then you sparkle and shine with a smile.
Attention’s thoughts chase your words,
Suddenly, Attention sees a flicker nearby.
What is it?!
A new idea, endeavor, creation to nudge,
knead and trounce.
Yes, Attention has moved on for now,
But as she pads away swiftly, do know
she’ll be back to purr you to her side.
It’s been many years,
and it kept getting bigger,
that grudge stone.
It feels like it won’t
that grudge stone.
Till one day,
you decide to rid
yourself of it.
So, you manage to budge
Do you judge your
do you hurl
s h a t t e r i n g
that glass house you live in?
What happened when you budged
that grudge, that stone,
that grudge stone?
to which I report.
emotional, and spiritual
allegiance to gladly.
On this sacred Earth,
within this wondrous Universe,
I devote myself to thee.
Oh, wait, maybe Depression?
No, the first two
don’t get to hang out long
enough to become the third guest.
I see you moping behind my gray matter,
peeking a curious glance at my soul.
Hoping to stay for longer than a cup of tea,
or glass of wine.
You want to be acknowledged. I don’t mind.
Embraced and even accepted, that’s fine, too.
But, oh, you dark sexy Melancholy and sweet Sadness,
you don’t get to feast with me for weeks, or
eat out of my fridge.
You don’t get to dance to drumbeats in my head every other day,
or fuck me over again.
This time around,
you are temporary guests.
I’ve already given you my best.