I will let this life find me
as i walk towards trees
as I linger in front of bushes and gaze
at the grazing animals that now roam the city ever ease-fully those holding the wild in their walk, in the way they tilt their heads and decide to scavenger through parks because to them it’s just another piece of land
no name attached

I will let life bring me the moon at night
        and the sun
   during the bird’s early morning call

I will let it find me            while I undress
and while I cook
while I pray
while I sing
                                             while I forgive

              –in between all the whiles–

while I cry
while I rejoice
While I fill my own cup of tea     to the brim
at the brim of life
at the loneliest
at the most fulfilled
at any age it chooses           Life will find me
as it has always done
     And I will let it in
I will open the door
holding the **** in my hands  and a smile on my face
(...this life is not lackluster that much I can perceive)
and if it comes past my doorframe and into my expansive whiles
you must indeed bet on me because I am sure I will let it in

You know, I used to be happy all of the time.
What the heck happened? I used to go weeks
without crying, I used to love going to school.

In fairness, I liked real school - not the sad,
sterile, anti-social, virtual experience.

When I'm mad I get silly, then mean. I don't
always know why - angry is the answer, but
I don’t always get the subconscious analysis
behind it. That's a bad day - I'm truly sorry.

If I could step back, in those moments,
and think - clearly - I'm about the luckiest person.

I'm a hundred pounds of privilege
- if we rounding up - but pressurized,
stressed like a movie submarine in deep dive.

I think I miss people - like in an assembly
- before it starts - where a hundred conversations
clash like the random patter of rain. That’s one
of the sounds of joy.

The civilized brain is soaked in the opinions,
and shared experiences with others. These virtual,
interactive shadows on flat screens can't fill the void.

my lips are cold,
but i still feel it burning,
the aftertaste of words
i didn't say.
i wish i knew
how to explain
this restless, hungry yearning
to be somebody's lover
for a day.