And I Return

Haven’t seen you in ten years
Your hair has changed, your face is fatter
But your eyes are still curled at the edges.

Your teeth are crooked,
Your stomach wider
Your thighs growing ever in the wrong direction.

But look at the way wise shines in your skin
The pallor of experience changing hands with pale and tan.

The bracelets on your wrist don’t fit anymore,
The charms too bulky and cross.
The eye that watches is blinded now
You can walk off the edge of unknown.

Now you balance on your toes
Once more the ballerina
Once more the clown for the pose
Your ankles criss-crossed with purple warnings.

Your chalk lines on the carpet smudge your elbows
As you rise
And sink the sweltering pile of panic
Behind you.

Suck on the words of indecision
Swallow the pride and chew on the choices
Blowing bubbles of brightly colored goals
Taking polaroids of your face for posterity

There is no more learning if these moments aren’t captured

There are clouded pillows on the foggy ground
Your face-first land is not deathly

But prepare yourself for what is to be found.


Talk at me while I eat

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