“You should write about it.”

or

I Learned to Smile at Mirrors: A Demonstration


The city was oddly near barren.
Strides hit the dimming sidewalk in two-to-one ratio.
Money looming tall above our covered heads.

When cornered into the shade
humans are unable to cast shadows.
Our path was laid clear by store closings,
locked doors ushering us down toward neon outlined water
to stare across gleaming black
while the shadowed lions bray.

Cloth turns to quarters turns
to pink fortune turns
to bright reflections across irises
while years of the same story vibrate
across our fingers.

Gears paid in hope spin warm with the smiles of
those  come before.
Lamps once bright now flicker and crack,
and the ballroom dancers
don’t quite turn with the fervor of before.
Sometimes what seems a flaw is what makes the object most itself;
inconsistencies or strange logics
from somewhere different than where you wanted.

Certain hands grasped against throats are
comfort blankets to soothe the burning,
forcing skin and bones to remember that with selflessness
and love
the past will no longer obfuscate
paths where feet need to fall most.

No sparing rejoinders for improvements,
or constant encouragement in what is already done well.
Every mile and hour leading to those sea salted boards totally rearranged me.

Fought 11 hours and 771 miles of asphalt
to press my face in where I was worst.
The greatest gift one can receive:
not encouragement,
but total excoriation of the places
where I was once only limping.

Let the train cars tilt with our backs due West,
shoulders sagging with knowledge half-learned,
thrice remembered.

Two deer stand in the rearview
as my tires turn heatward.
Smiling as I realize your Country
grew to reflect your worth.
Not the other way around.