There's a cup of
coffee in the cup I got
when I lived in
France, turning cold,
sitting
on a book I'm using
as a coaster, called
"Goblin Market"

and the vinyl that
I found for 50 cents
is turning slowly in
my Craigslist turntable,
76 trombones
76 trombones

and I'm trying to make
my way through
"Tuesdays with Morrie,"
because Mitch Albom
makes me cry
and now
I'm thinking only
of heartbreak,
rejection,
un-
requited
love and of
the day, the weeks, the months
my grandma
died.

There's so much to be
happy for
sad for
teeter totter for

I love this life and
I feel so much pain.

So I keep having this thought
where I'm standing
at the edge of a cliff
and it's not possible
to fall

It's not the wind,
pushing me up-
or the resistance of my
ankles
pressing my bony heels
into the dirt
to force me back
when my body starts
to go-
teeter off the verge
of change.

it's
the pull of hope.
the soft ribbons of
sunlight that
snake their
way into the dark
and push it out with
gentle fervor-
with aching persistence
and the knowledge of
better days

I keep imagining standing on
the edge of a cliff
and not remembering
what it's like to fear
or be swept away
by love.

I wish I could say
I've found the
beauty in
suffering-
the zen
part of
accepting
what's
received.
I know that
deserving doesn't
dictate what we get or
need,
but I can't shake
that thought on
out of me

Every situation feels
worse.

When I'm sad,
I want to be indifferent-
Indifferent, I want to be
numb.
When I'm numb,
I want to be hurting-

so why is it I'm in
a constant fight between
nothingness and
pain
where I need to feel
suffering
and also
nothing.

It's curious that
the universe
chose to
exist as
me

and now I spend a
lifetime trying
to choose to
exist as
it, too

Oh beautiful soul,

there are so
many things
in this world to
adore-

people running when
the rain begins to fall,
shaking off their umbrellas and
laughing at the
downpour -
waiting in line for
a handful of
coffee to keep the
biting
cold at bay
or watch the steam rise,
the cream satiate the
bitter black for a moment
with a cloud-
looking out from
within at
grey and drippy
streets where
cars are pushing through
the weather
to
get to where
they're going

Oh beautiful soul,

there are so many things
in this world to
love
and I'm beginning to
see
you're one of them.

Tonight, deep in
residential woods

at the foothill of the
butte who towers
the city-

the needle touched
the record
and Tenderly,
Tenderly played

you spoke to me
in quiet,
in silence,
and my stillness
was the counter
that you needed so

I made a deal with
fondness-
to open the most secret
vaults of my vulnerability
and sell my soul to hope
and design

at Fox Hollow's
smokey dusk,
with you

I shook the hand of love.