Whenever, wherever (but never here or now)

Sometimes it's just not enough to tell myself that
it'll all work out, it'll all be fine
life is quite the ride, hold on, wait and see
Sometimes, I want to see where this is going
Have some idea of where I want it to go
make some form of an eventual plan
pretend I'm on a path

Sometimes, it's not sufficient to have faith
sometimes I want direction
want a compass
want an idea of what star to follow
(want just to see a star to follow)
Sometimes, I can't be sure it will all work out.

Sometimes I can't even dream, even wish, even look to the skies and breathe in
possibility
Sometimes I am so lost in the here-and-now I can't see the forest

Sometimes, life is longer than I know what to do with
Sometimes shorter
Almost always too uncertain

Sometimes I think even the beginning of a glimmer
might be enough, a spark, an idea to spring from
Sometimes, my own ambition just isn't direction enough.

Sometimes it is, of course.

But sometimes it's not.

The more things change...

Everything is different now.

How wonderful, that everything has changed.

Job location lifestyle plans goals dreams beloveds
nothing is the same, and everything has changed

You want me to write again
and I respect that
possibly solely because I want me to write again, too
but that's ok. we can have similar wishes and goals
(it wouldn't be the first time)

you make me smile, you make me laugh
(to quote a song, I'm not used to liking that)
when I'm with you I spend less time wanting to cry
and more time wanting to live
you make me see possibilities instead of blank space
being with you paints pictures in the space behind my eyes where before there was only darkness and mist
you hold me when I fall apart and kiss my eyes when I cry

thank you.

(please consider this my love letter to you)
(I hope you feel the same)

you can never go home again

It's strange, the way home fluxes and moves, careless and undulating
the way one's viewing of one's own past
our history, etched inedibly upon our skin and behind our eyes
under our fingernails and within every pore
the way it changes and adjusts
slowly, minutely
creepingly
until one day you look upon it and find your memories have all changed
your own hard-fought understanding have given way, finally, at last, to something new
be it a peace, some closure, a small measure of affection
or things less benign
nothing ever stays the same

least of all the past.

all fall down

Trying to focus on my own breathing
In and out, in and out
trying to keep it steady and calm and to somehow feel less overwhelmed
it's like late at night
after you've fallen asleep
the way I sit on the phone still
and listen to you breathe
in and out, in and out
let the fact of your continued existance be the gentle background noise to whatever else I'm doing

It's a good reminder.

things said and unsaid

You can't
laugh
and say Like I was saying... oh no wait, I didn't tell you.
No, no, you'd just worry
and think I won't worry anyway
worry about what thing you haven't told me
what worry-worthy, laugh-worthy truth hangs between us
unknown
but still potently dangerous

so you told me
of course
because you know me and you know that I will worry regardless
you know the way I hang on every word you speak
and the way my heart clenches when I think too hard about you
and all the things in your life which terrify me

and you were right; I'm worried
terrified, even. Of course.
and so you asked me if I was ok,
like there was every any question
asked and said of course you know I'm not
(how could I be?)
talked about it as though I have a right to this
the way the air leaves my lungs like I'm in a vacuum
the way I want to cry but can't quite find the tears
the way the words hover just out of reach
and I asked you if you wouldn't feel this way if you were me
and you said you would
so there's that, I suppose

but yes. you act as though you know
as though you're confident now
in the feelings I wish to deny
in the places I leave silent
and the words I choose which aren't quite answers to the question asked
and you act as though I should feel this way, as though it's ok, it's fair it's allowed
as though I have any right at all
and it makes me hope that maybe I do
but then you fall asleep

next time, could you maybe breathe into the phone?
so I can listen to you sleep
and know, for now at least, that you're still there
you're still ok
and I can close my eyes in the dark
and relax
and breathe

reach out and grab hold of the sky

I'm going to miss California.
I'm going to miss the ocean and the palmtrees, the friends I've made and the shape of the air, the color of the sky.
I'm going to miss the ships in my harbor and the sunsets over the bridge.
I'm going to miss the godawful hot and the surprisingly, shockingly cold.
I'm going to miss the dry desert air and the crazy-insane winds.
I'm going to miss the way I feel when I'm here, when I'm looking at the shipyard and smiling and smiling and smiling, when I'm standing ankle-deep in the Pacific and watching the oil rigs out at sea, when I'm climbing strangely-shaped trees and seeing the land drop away below me, cliffs a straight fall to the pounding waves beneath.
I'm going to miss California, because I love it.
I rather don't want to leave but it's really too late to take it back,
and I don't think I'll become who I would want to be here.

But I'll have to come back. I will. Because in a great many ways, this is the home of my heart.

leave me alone and I'll come home

I am adrift

Which is funny, really, all things considered
myself, adrift amongst the waves
waving or drowning?
or both all at once

I've lost my way and don't know where to find me
and maybe that's ok
maybe none of it matters
not the fact that I sleep at night
and awake in the morning
and eat sometimes and work sometimes and have time to read and to sit still and just
be still

maybe none of it matters.
Maybe it's not bad.
It's certainly restful.

But I've never liked restful
Never liked silence or stillness
Or endless days which march after one another in a single-file line
Uniform and predictable.

I've lost my way, on this vacation in the sun
and now I don't know if there's a real world to go back to.