I drink to feel better,
I drink to feel fine.
I drink because I miss you,
Is there anymore wine ?

i saw a crane the other day.
it was foraging in the brook.

two thin lines
stepping stepping
stopping
observing

it almost looks human
the way it moves
thoughtful, careful, hesitant even
negotiating its footing

gooney majestic grace
unfurling ballet -- for me -- amid
babbling brooks and nature's hooks

i cried
i wept like a child

---- no, i didn't

i didn't cry
i didn't weep
but i wanted to
i wanted to cry
i felt like i should have

i wanted
to cry

i should have been able to feel
to have feelings

night drew in
abrupt
i didn't see it coming
lost in thoughtlessness' pauses
retracing the cursive of it all
left with
blank pages bound, blinking cursor

i killed two mosquitoes

then left

i kicked a stone
down the path

i have ******
i have felt
but i have never
(not once)
been in love

not "well, maybe once"
nope
never
have i

been in love

been in love
it rolls off the tongue
with a force of its own
a cascade of eddies
flit about the edges

a past tense
slave to the future

been in love
a remembered caress
a needle
a sledgehammer
either way
it does not stammer
it babbles on
a brook a crook

we consent
not to its content but its
unmistakable steps
we bend
to its
innocence

the way it moves consumes

it is, i think, in a sense
what makes us want it
so much
it is what steals the breath

air replaced with
babbling
over tome of stone

i have gladly
taken a scalpel
to its made bed
revealing bones alone

holding onto things
your strength will give -out
and you will miss so many
freedom gifts

it is
not easy
to fit
in
a
world
you
do
not
fit
in
to
however
hard
you
try
its
best­
to
forget
and
move
on
sometimes