I want you to blow through me
to match the coldness I hold
inside of this aging, weary body
held together by years of love

Weekends are time to
peddle softly into a
wide open field of grass

Unmade beds mirror
mussed morning hair
and rumpled sheets

I don’t know where I fall
as I watch myself idle
through life with that
weighted vest you saw
on Amazon on my back

My breath continues strong,
refreshed by a long walk
and propelled by the thrill
of parenting while parentless
because you can have one
without the other, and it’s
all I ever wanted to have

A slow breeze glances
your hand dipping into
the blades beside you
and time opens up

I spend most days leaping
from one box to another,
making sure not to fall
into the blank spaces
that separate me from
the rest of the world

So, I lay down on a chaise
with a book of fiction
to imbibe someone else’s
life of bold grandeur
inside my inactivity

It knows more than us,
but is still artificial
and anonymous
If we allow it to
be autonomous
we will be left
pounding salt

I walk aimlessly
to drumbeat my
inexorable grief
and I always end
up back where I
started; home

But sometimes, if we
allow ourselves to break
free from our dock,
the open sea is all
we need to find the
courage to swim free

It’s strange to look for
some kind of solace
in a puddle outside of
a nondescript building
on any road in this
city of wayward fog
and capsized humans

Hair grows out of my
ear like a cornstalk
and I barely care
because tweezers
are man’s enemy

My left sock with
a gaping hole
is the air I need

I’ve been trying
my whole life to
scratch the bird

Sometimes, I like to store
my emotion in a shirt
pocket because then
I can take it out and
look at it before I throw
it into a street gutter

A bottle pops open
and nothing spills out
because this whole time,
I’ve been the confetti

Pitch black, trees sway
Birds sleep in the night
I stare straight up into
the vast night sky
and all I see are
fireflies

But my disdain is tantamount
to a horse-drawn carriage
running over your left foot
while you are wearing Crocs
and trying to balance a
cocktail umbrella on the tip
of your broken finger

Same dinner, same plate
That chair near that window

Same show, new season
That snack and that hat

Same steps, same path
That mug and that view

Aimless, like a broken
weathervane on top
of a ramshackle barn
in the middle of a storm

Bodies wandering past
Minds so far away
Windswept and oblivious