Love

I had entire solar systems in my head today, spinning stale pincushions and mistaken tomatoes skirted with rings of grinding notebook paper revolving around me, a solar fetus, when I stopped to notice that there were millions of copies of me everywhere, all of us quietly heaving in black. I imagined the untold horrors and ecstasies that soared through the galactic spaces inside each of us. How we pass lithely by one another and exist quietly together while straining to hold up the ever-heavier worlds inside our beings. I watched all of us, carrying on in infinite combinations of what were the same notes played on different instruments and barely perceptibly, I squeaked and I droned.

And lustily sighing I worshiped those who were swirling around me wearing black headphones and blinking like paintings, or standing stoically in long black coats reading soft-cover books curled back upon themselves.


There was an all-awakening, metal clanging on a thousand flag poles, wind sweeping across golden prairies, jump off a cliff because Jenny did LOVE for quiet strangers.

I regret that I never went with you to South Dakota.