We danced once. It was something to do
that they couldn't quite shutdown without
looking stupid and petty. We turned
the lights down whenever we got the
chance again. That's the point. We didn't
stop looking for the experience,
feeling something beyond misery.
Discovering something for ourselves.
They painted pictures of it, they wrote
profound poems about it, they sang
mad and sad songs about it, but we
kept it fresh in our hearts all the time.
We were alive with it, not regretting
losing it, every day. Not taking
it out on others. It wasn't a
Hollywood movie, it was a new
day unlike any other. That's what
you can't go back and reclaim as yours
and yours alone. That's what they mean when
they say you only have one laugh to
live. As long as you're still here now, you
don't have to be lost anywhere else
in time. I watched them go, but didn't
feel blessed to see them unravel so
fast after the party, one by one.
And now, I'm familiar with the
Gypsy sky, whether filled with heavy
rain or thin air. Both as old companions
and silver birds as they pass
the sand. I blame none for choosing to
live among the pretty red starfish
over breakfast with a ghost, though I'm
no weary stranger looking for an
empty available room in the
caring heart either. Your song is on
the kitchen window sill as promised.