Real Life

Real Life

Burning throat of a want

Charcoal ash and smoldering coals

Orange and sienna singe

Up through the nostrils

Of when the edge of reason

Falls on to some space

Between yes and all the questions

That follow

To be on the fringe of real

On the train, afraid of the tracks

Of her jumping off and wanting to go back

Ready to buy a ticket and go

To find out the what’s and the why’s on the way

To live not in precaution but in motion

Of witnessing the world

Through windows exposed

Of touching the place where the emotion rose

From the blur in the landscape rushing past

To rise up from the backdrop of all that the motion has

To wash up on the shore and crawl in the sand

Always moving more than the hands

Can ever steady the tide, because all that is moving

Is an ocean inside, uncontrolled by skin or organs

Or blood or syringe, this is the place

Where real life begins