Happy.

We hear what we want to hear
Creating languid pictures of idealistic landscapes
We do it all the time
Daydreaming forever
Silly children gazing at clouds
Tracing rainbows with our callused hands
It is the essence of being human
This unrelenting hope for happiness.

Gravity

For awhile he lay there staring at the ceiling.
I was half asleep.
Then, suddenly
I really like you.
A pause, the air stiffening.
I told him to be careful,
Gravity gets the best of us.
Yet,
I like you too.
He said,
If it were different it would be you.
Like the song,
It's bad enough we get along so well.

A Tribute to Rabbit

We dreamed of cities crumbling and feet burdened by concrete and telephone wires.
Every time the sickening reality hit our stomachs, we woke up from this nightmare.
When the moment arrived that we walked away from the debris
I think that panicked feeling took over us both
We've been waking up since then.

"Why does one begin to write? Because she feels misunderstood, I guess. Because it never comes out clearly enough when she tries to speak. Because she wants to rephrase the world, to take it in and give it back again differently, so that everything is used and nothing is lost. Because it's something to do to pass the time until she is old enough to experience the things she writes about."
— Nicole Krauss

Baby, You Can't

I can't say anything.
No no no
Cuz baby we both don't know what we want.
But I do know I find relief in
the lack of expectations,
the thrill of walking thin lines,
and the sense that our time is limited.
But baby, you can't call me baby
Can't confess my beauty and run your hands everywhere
and let me run mine.
Can't tell me that you want me all to yourself and pull me close when I try to leave.
Can't rest your head in my lap as we talk about nothing until five in the morning.
Can't watch me sleeping when the sunrises and press your lips deep into my hair (and I know you do because I'm only pretending to sleep.)
You can't, at least, not when her picture is on the bedside table, in a frame of pastel colors.

She is a parasite
A puh puh puh puh-ruh-site.
And you know what?
She doesn't really give a damn.
Because accusing me of you,
Only makes two!
And anyway how beautiful everything is!
The sky is blue
The palm trees sway in the warm breeze
and God! We are young!
That is what it is to be young:
to be beautiful, selfish, reckless,
adored, thrilling, and yes!
Puh Puh Puh Puh-Ruh-Sitic.

Something is strange about today.
Summer has strolled in early.
The air is warm and the sun
is not just beaming,
its radiating.
I have that feeling you get when you wake up
on a lazy sunny day
and the bright afternoon
cascades through the blinds:
An avalanche of light and possibilities.

I want to run to the beach and drink this happiness.
Float up up and away with it.

Somehow I managed to drink a bit too much on a Tuesday night. Marvelous. Now I am hungover and patiently waiting in the library for my next class. Libraries and churches, never optimal places to recover from a hard night out. The first never has anywhere comfy to sit when trying to ease the spins, although the books do offer a momentary distraction. The second is simply morally questionable, as throwing up in the restroom behind the pews while the sermon drones on and parents discretely pinch their children to keep quiet is never favorable and the event will probably be held against me when I meet Peter at the gates.

In any case, it was the usual Taco Tuesday night in Newport. Drinking, eating and smoking with good people. Except this time he was there and he actually apologized for the first time in almost a year. He said he was sorry and I said it was okay and patted his arm. Then, like that, we got on just fine. Talking and laughing with everyone else, like friends. I'm surprisingly really happy with the whole situation. For the first time in a long time, I feel as if everything is almost just right, for the moment.

Reconciliation. Cordiality. A sense of peace, at last. For now.

Everybody moves so cool
and a go go go
Like they have somewhere to go
and some place to be baby!
But not me
I'm satisfied growing by the sea
And not you, cause you're as happy as can be
But, if anyone looked too closely
They would see
That we're all liars
Floating glass by the shining shining sea

I broke a heart today.
He was crying in my arms
I didn't know what to do.
I felt guilty as I collected my things,
my papers and clothes.
Felt his tears wet my back
His hair brush against my cheek.
He'll remember things like a picture book.
The rush of the first kiss,
coffee on the beach,
walks in the city,
holding hands in bookstores,
the afternoon light pouring onto
the unmade sheets.
And I, am a ghost to everything.

I am you

standing in the middle of nowhere
trying to find my fate.