while its true,
most have a favored feature,
their eyes
glowing with colors,
said to be windows to the soul,
some choose hair,
tumbling down backs,
gleaming with highlights,
and low-lights.
but do these have any real purpose,
other than vanity?
what about brains,
the thing that lets you think,
or your heart,
a literal drum in your chest,
a figurative container of love?
mine is wrists,
delicate, slim, pale,
yet strong,
beautiful, but useful,
what i use to support my hands,
my fingers,
all working together in symphony,
creating music on a guitar,
supporting the neck while the fingers fly,
contributing to beautiful things,
creating poems to inspire,
for others,
or just for me.
they make writing, typing, playing,
possible,
all the while still beautiful.
you never hear someone say
"my favorite feature is my wrists"
well,
now you have,
because if someone ever asks,
i have a unique answer.
right now, my fingers flying as i type,
im making a connection between
wrists and brain,
wrists and heart.
this may seem odd,
but if you understand this rambling,
than consider us friends,
because we are very few.

Their are many ways,
so many,
its amazing,
how many have come to be.
ways to leave,
to go,
to be
released.
I wouldn't want my time to be soon,
but you never know.
If I had a choice,
I wouldn't go by fire,
free as ashes in the wind.
I wouldn't go by water,
finally surrounded by silence,
I've had enough of that for a life time.
no,
I would choose to fly,
I would soar like the birds,
free as the wind,
my last act of defiance against gravity,
the force that is beaten by no being,
the force that pulls waves,
sets the biological clocks of many.
the force that keeps us tethered,
or sets us free.
If I had a choice,
at my time to go,
I would not pass of age,
nor disease,
or accident.
I would fly like the birds,
our difference being
they will fly for their lives,
to live, to be,
while I,
I will walk.
but at my time I will fly, soar, live their love,
for mere seconds.
In those mere seconds,
I
     will
             be
                              **released

First month, first seat change. we were on opposite sides, no interaction. I relish this, i am not a
BOLD or EXTROVERTED person
some might say I am shy or introverted
now that the time has come, I am not ready to change seats,
to take the chance of sitting closer, forced interaction,
I am nervous,
but am calmed with the thought that chances are, we'll be seated even farther apart,
I was wrong.
our elbows will brush, our knees will touch, our gazes will meet.
I hear the words coming out of the teachers mouth,
but  am stunned into silence ,
my whole being shaken,
our names are called,
our seats given.
To some, this may seem silly, immature, an overreaction.
For them, this may be true, in this situation calm, collected, thinking: this is no big deal.
But with dread curdling in your stomach as you snap to,
stumbling to your seat,
this is an earthquake shaking the earth, a volcano spitting ashes,
a panic attack waiting to happen.
and it pounces.
seated, trying not to squirm, to shake, to ****;
wondering what he's thinking, trying not to stare.
he thinks you don't see,
the glances he shoots the short foot between you,
thinks your engrossed in the teacher, the clock, the pencil
any thing but him.
But your any thing but engrossed, you see every shake, gaze,
fell every brush of the hand.
Finally, this long hour is over, the mixture of excitement and torture has come to an end.
As is to be expected, on your way still in has gaze, you trip, you stumble, your face cherry red;
embarrassed, but thankful,
that he doesn't have a class with an even more abundant chance of embarrassment.
over the day,
you forget the way he gazes,
his shy way
different from the others,
the way he's taller,
in a way that makes you feel safe, flushed, happy, even if their is no chance of him being yours.
But then lunch comes,
you sit down,
ready to devour food that can only fill your stomach, not your soul as much as you wish it would, or
could;
but looking across,
you spot him, watching you,
his gaze surpassing the walls of people, as much as a shy person wouldn't like,
is it coincidence that he found the one gap with a view of me?
is he staring at me?
what to do?
with all this questing running your mind,
your appetite flee's,
and so do I,
to my safe haven within the books.
tomorrow, the nervousness has subsided, its over, your over, its done.
but then, on the way to first period,
our paths cross,
glances exchanged,
blushes made.
You know that this is not over, not done,
the time has come for class to begin.
I've tried to forget, to overcome this nervousness, but I've been defeated,
ground to a fine powder of nerves by a crush.
our knees bounce in anticipation,
our pencils tap,
our feet twitch.
time to share the book,
the dreaded closeness.
Finally it happens,
the brush of the elbows.
we both feel it,
the sparks that glow blue,
the cheeks that grow red.
we have been given a gift, a chance,
to overcome shyness,
to create something wonderful.
but to take that chance, to accept this gift means time, courage.
and every day until then,
this tension will be relieved
and i will be a nervous wreck.
We started on opposite sides,
but fate pulled us together, forced a chance.
now we sit close, still tense, still wired,
but strangely happy,
exhilarated,
alive.