I've got a heartbeat
that's irregular
like the narrative
strings on which
I have danced
throughout my
brief time here
so far

We are all planets
wanderers in an
endless waltz
across the canvases
of the cosmos
trying to find the
nearest star to
provide warmth
and light
to support the life
within and
we sometimes get
sunburned and
we sometimes get
frozen
but
the endless vacuum
seems a lot less desperate
when we are in synchronous
orbit with
one another

The statistical impossibility of our births is something that hurts even more when your parents aren't fit for the role as such and you grow up in this haze of if and when. Of "If I catch you, when I catch you", and you learn to run faster than any Olympian but you're too afraid of going to practice because you know your parents will be there and you are a prize, something to be marveled at, and you are breakable and replaceable and you know the second you do wrong, like when you lost the spelling bee on the word Massachusetts, they will be there for you. You will always remember that there are two T's at the end because there's no way to escape the brand on your soul of making a mistake in their eyes. Parents will always be there for you.

But so will vultures when you die.
But so will death, waiting for you to make a mistake.

We do things
in hopes of the
perpetual tangibility
of happiness
trying to seize
as many days
as we can before
the winter comes
and leaves us with
picturesque backdrops
in front of which
our hearts freeze and break
because we rubbed them too hard
in trying to keep each other
warm

While waiting for
my tires to be changed
an old lady struck up
conversation with me
and we talked like old friends
and she told me about how
she grew up near a cannery
where you could buy unlabeled
cans for two dollars a case
so dinner was always a surprise
and we talked about how to
heal the world and she gave
me a book of Catholic prayers
and when we parted ways
we agreed that we would like
to cross paths again but
didn't exchange information
because sometimes the absolute
best experiences are spontaneous
but altogether life-changing

I write poetry
for strangers
instead of my friends
because I can't see
my fears and dreams
reflected off the eyes
of strangers they way I can
in the mirrors
that are my loved ones
and looking
at other people is far
easier than looking
at myself
trying to find
the spots that gleam
in the sunlight

I have a tremendously
cinematic memory
all sepia-toned
and the good moments
are surrounded
in perfect lighting
and orchestral swells
and the bad moments
are filled with endless
drum beats
and I imagine one of my
mothers as Judy Garland
and my father as Ernest Hemingway
and it makes it just
a little bit easier
to understand how
they were so consumed
by their ambitions and
their self-destructive
tendencies