words wrap whimsically
around cranium pie
and I float beneath
candy clouds
of my wildest fantasies--

fairies in sapphire
robes fly kyanite black
dragons through gum
drop caves where coffee
porter and smoke vapors
are common amongst
townsfolk--

it's okay to be in love--

falling for that clerk that toasted your bagel
first thing in the day,
winking at the guy next to you
at the gas pump as he admires
your Femme ride--

this girl in my heart
shies away from feeling,
but expresses so much--

like knowing how to skate but
refusing to because of how free and
happy it makes her---

Pump the breaks!
Seize the ******* day!

it's okay if those temporary others
don't share those feelings,
but rather acknowledge your
gratitude and shift their own thinking--

that clerk's job isn't meaningless,
that guy at the pump isn't a creep--

meeting the right human at the exact
Cosmic time is absurd,
thrilling and anxiety-causing but
smiling at those that pass through
makes the big things seem so much smaller--

just breathe, fellow traveler
it gets easier--

siphon the blood from my weathered heart.
encased in muscle and bone
it pulses loudly through your words
so loud that all you speak are dreams.

we're traveling
this astral belt,
floating on this
makeshift rock
surrounded by the
vastness of galaxies
and cosmos--

why does it matter
if your job *****
sometimes?

feast your eyes
on the skies
and choose to be
above it--

beers slosh,
girls spit
boys lust,
we stare--