this time last year
it was unusually warm
i watched the rain make trails down the front window at the bar

it's been a long time since i could sit with that kind of quiet
strangers close by minding their own lives as if we weren't all connected

and we were all making plans
or daydreaming of escape
doing something with our hands to keep our minds busy

there's some kinds of sadness that are nice to share. like a hooded sweatshirt walk through the warm rain

as we look in the eyes of a long winter not yet arrived
i'll pause and remember to take a breath while i can

sometimes i wonder
if i managed to learn a separate language,
where the words sound the same as english but all have different meanings

and somehow
no one i've spoken to has been able to tell the difference

you'll never make it out of the bottom of this well if you beat yourself down when you try to stand up.

you'll never make it out of the bottom of this well if you beat yourself down when you slip climbing up.

let yourself fall soft.
let the pain sink in and try again.

there might be someone up there who could use your help.

water dissolves salt
oil dissolves rust
gin soaks the feelings and
whiskey stokes the flames
smoke fades in wind
and human bodies float

what doesn't **** you
only hurts you longer.

this moss covered bench somehow holds my weight

after all this time

though forgotten it still does its job

age has softened the wood and made it more comfortable

like a dying dog panting quietly  at its owner's feet.

the faces along the trail are vaguely familiar

these days strangers all resemble people i've met in the past
as if in a dream

i'm still bad at remembering names and I guess there's some shame in that

i  don't know why but the falling leaves make me wish i had something to say

or someone to say it to.

how come none of the songs about the the ocean mention that low tide smells like ****?

if you're  going to get lost in an infinite horizon,

praise the reflection of sunlight,

and drink the salt from the air,

at least look at what's in front of you.