Dear Elusive,

I have finally solved you.

You left no notes.
And asked for no pens,
not even to pretend
you would have.

I got something out of my system writing this.

My mind is running 20 thousand miles an hour and I stop only
to realize that I haven't been running at all, that I've only just started
walking. Only walking around and around always.

Forever and always.
It's sounds promising, doesn't it?
It's what is written in my cards
every christmas.

And what I see on billboards and posters
of young lovers and their bliss and their
hands, holding eachother in eachother
and things like that.

Walking into store and the people,
oh those people! They talk with their tongues just, and I think,
"Wow. Those tongues can really move!"

They're dancing, is all.
They're dancing around things on television commercials.
The pills and the babies and the pills and the elderly..

Oh those poor pills.
Poor, poor pills.
Sitting in nursing homes.
Not helping at all.
They probably wish they could help somehow,
those poor pills.

Better, better

Television shows are as a rule incredibly unrealistic.
With things like always, no matter what, getting great advice that somehow always works out in your favor. Things like perfect kissing and always having that 'moment' when you just see fireworks.

But some things that I have in fact always been able to relate to on the fictitious television shows I watch, is the ability I lack for one: to let go. Another is the habitual need for nostalgic comfort.

They still suck the soul out of you.
But fictitious television is just another provider for something we all seek.
Connection.

What do you do?

When something you’ve known most of your life is over?

Hitchhikers

From my point of view:
I don't really know whether to laugh or to cry so I do both, periodically. I don't know whether to feel angry or sad, bitter or indifferent. So I have all of those feelings about a single subject in one day.

From your point of view:
You don't have any reason to be angry or sad or bitter or indifferent or to question your choices in life because, simply, you settle.




Now I have my swinging back and forth from this to that to another. I am confused at times and adamant the next.
But I refuse to settle. On anything.

Variation On the Word Sleep
Margaret Atwood

I would like to watch you sleeping,
which may not happen.
I would like to watch you,
sleeping. I would like to sleep
with you, to enter
your sleep as its smooth dark wave
slides over my head

and walk with you through that lucent
wavering forest of bluegreen leaves
with its watery sun & three moons
towards the cave where you must descend,
towards your worst fear

I would like to give you the silver
branch, the small white flower, the one
word that will protect you
from the grief at the center
of your dream, from the grief
at the center. I would like to follow
you up the long stairway
again & become
the boat that would row you back
carefully, a flame
in two cupped hands
to where your body lies
beside me, and you enter
it as easily as breathing in

I would like to be the air
that inhabits you for a moment
only. I would like to be that unnoticed
& that necessary.

Primus

I have so much anxiety due to
your ability to
break me and my heart.

A first!
Usually I break my own before this point.

calm?

I can't, in words, explain to you how this, how I, feel.
I am so unbelievably forgetful that I..well I let important things slide by that area of my brain marked as MEMORY. I let them slip from me into oblivion, into the back where the smokers of my mind lurk, feeding off of nothing but themselves.

Did you know that the central processing unit of a human brain only has seven memory registers? Which means that if you have seven things on your mind, and you think of something else, one of the other just casually drops off of the edge and out of your head?

I remember this ickle fact and immediately think of:
Book jackets.
How cold this room is.
I wish I had a jacket.
Too bad you can't tote your entire wardrobe with you on vacation.
How much I wish I wasn't on vacation.
How much my relatives had to drink before clamoring into this hotel room.
Wade.
Wade.
Still Wade.

And it continues.

I love this.

Photo By:
Avery Enderle Wagner