I’ll stay with you
if you can hold a bubble on your tongue.
If you promise the clouds will part tomorrow.
If you can write an instruction manual for
“Finding Happiness in 10 Steps or Less”.
What a mess.
We left the curtains undone
the lights on
the milk on the counter.
Closer to the truth isn’t within walking distance
it isn’t a destination
or a riddle
it isn’t a road that can be repaved.
It’s a card with no face
an alphabet of numbers
a flower that grows in the earth’s core
taking root in fire.
It sits at the tail-end of laughter
where hollow silences are sired.
Written Tuesday, 5.17.11.