Fireflies

The idea that someone could be happy to see me is apocalyptic

The entire section of the universe I have been raised or rooted to branch out from

Is based on the notion of antipathy, aversion, and at best apathy, indifference

But to look forward to, prompt or incentivize the presence of my being

Is cataclysmic glacier-melt, volcanic-ash upheaval

The fault-line quake juggernaut foot-stomp flash-dance

The hurricane twister-competition drink-the-flask freeze-up

On stage center spot-light freak-out paralysis

I can’t move in such sands.  I don’t know how.

Wasn’t built to or asked to navigate the idea of being requested,

Sought or appreciated to abide

Deer in flash-bulb moonlight truck stops abruptly to patiently allow crossing

Mine is the world of the unanswered phone call

The week long waiting and swallowed recognition of what silence amounts

Resignation of diluted want dripping callow impetuosity into meditative Bourbon

The toxic draught lacquered lozenge for the esophagus

Mine is the twenty page conversation with myself

Recycled into fifty or seventy page iterations over revolutions of the sun

Attempting closure in doppelganger volumes asking for a moment to hold court

Knowing the phases of the moons, the dark shadow hollow cores

The never return ring, the banded stone at the side of the sink without comment

The blank screen, the cavernous mailbox

The pittance drips to an ancient stomach

Blatantly eviscerated chin-up machinist turned pan-handler

This is done knowing parachutes are illusions

I never packed one or asked anyone to jump with me

At the start of life one startles already falling

It all depends on perception: the ground, the clouds, the others

Debris or not debris

Recognizing the smack potential in flashes then submerging back into daydreaming

I keep my eyes open, all of it, at once

Which leads me to feel like a narcoleptic voyeur of somnambulists

Occasionally garnering moments of clarity pondering who is really asleep

The art, poetry, music, social-zoology cosmos in complete stillness

When granted perspective of the vibrating oneness

I am amazed with the idea of anyone happy to speak with me

Because it entertains the idea of what real is

Of what a moment is; that I am in one with another being

So it is; to be in

The fall out the sky, the sleep or awake, the texture of the surface

The impact unveils as colorful and magical

As dissolving into the universe and us just being here

Like two smiling children on a log watching fireflies

Let us be here

You and I