Some people are beautifully abstract movies:
enlightened visions of an idea come to life through cryptic scripting and inspired cinematography.
Slow burns full of brilliant dialogue that leave you thinking about them long after you've seen their open endings.
The kind that only the intelligentsia could ever truly appreciate, with a poor audience score but universally loved by critics.
The kind of movie with a cult following that comes up in late night conversations amongst hipsters sharing their opinions on the pieces of art that have made the biggest, longest lasting impacts on them.
The kind that takes hours of scrutiny and analyzation just to feel like you've arrived at some vague sense of what it all means.
And then there are people like me,
who are less like grand artistic visions of profound cinematography,
and more like reality tv.
The kind of thing a working suburban mother tunes into after a double at the local diner/supermarket/pharmacy counter.
The kind of non-committal, light-hearted viewing that never comes close to demanding your full attention. Just a myriad of characters brought together with a loose premise and slightly coerced tension.
The kind of thing you could have a conversation over, and walk away from and come back to, and still know what's going on, because it's just all so obvious - it never requires much thought.
The kind of show where the actors have every viewer convinced that they're something that they're not.
I fought for you,
my sweet sky,
through your turbulence
as your own Amelia Earhart that you cast across your currents just to
pass the time
I floated through the patches of static
even as my frame risked freezing over amidst the frigidity
with my last specks of warmth I cooed you to your next inhales
all the while knowing the wrath of your exhale was inevitably directed back
I see the forecast- it’s as clear as the air,
my dear deep blue,
you entertain thoughts of my plunge
amidst other travelers teetering across you at your horizon,
and as the vessel approaches
I have made my descent back
to the reality I buried
deep within the dirt
I’ll fight for you
but Baby Breeze,
I won’t fight over you
...the meadow and the puddle
you wouldn't come out of
wild and simple joy
invisable to eyes, now...
I wander the meadow grass
the fields where the flowers glow
in early morning
the fields you
only dream of
where your soul is always free...
and you come running
spectral through the mist
I walk lonely fields
I see you in my dreams
In vacation home rentals,
over the garden wall, in the soft paleness of my underarm, the freckles traced into constellations
I pull open empty closets that smell of mothballs and salt. I look for white space, for that empty feeling life gives me, for the sweetness of life on my tongue. All the while, time passes me by, aging my face.
I could cry because the sky is so blue
For my mortal soul is just a fractal in this lonely universe!
For I have no direction, other than that of my heart.