it must feel good to stand above me | while i make you so proud of me
riding in a train, passed the calves of long horned cattle, and the winding river zumbro, and an old truck stop. there is a mound of earth a mile wide, and it has been silent for so long, the roots of misplaced rainforests have begun to sprout and grow wild. we are doomed to remember them as the bones of the earth, but as we melt into the atmosphere in pieces of translucent mica, i wonder if that smile you reflected in the glass wasn't made from something more.
interventions. the viewing of a chaotic summer, colors inverted and reflected in the eyes of family members unrelated by blood. unexpected coffee visitors. choosing caramel instead of chocolate, latte instead of cafe, and being all the wiser for it. early morning breakfasts in an attempt to escape into normalcy and ignorance. hugs necessary for the continuation of being. karma. unwanted white lilies. newspapers. sleeping during the day instead of at night. recounting winter escapades. dreaming of houses covered in moss, terrorized by storms, inhabited by faceless lovers, and surrounded by ugly memories. heartbreaking voices reverberating from stellar satellites. chocolate chip macadamia nut cookies with [regular, non-organic skim] milk.
taking care of each other. traveling long distances for painful reasons. parking garages. the evolution of the meaning of a room. loveable assholes. the overheating of the planet. contemplating the beginnings of knowledge, and wishing for roots that were never there. old soft spots that will never rot. ice cream. sleeping open-mouthed in moving vehicles amongst strangers. heat.
and if our always is all that we gave
and we someday take that away . . .