Sunday, March 7, 2010

today i liked
sitting in a theater filled with people we didn't know
and some we did
i mean some that she did
and watching a terrible movie and laughing out loud
at all the same awful parts
and none of the little strangers making a sound
i liked megan's voice
and how it was so much lighter than i thought it would be
so much lighter than anything i had heard before
if i'm writing poorly it is like a whisper on winter winds
it is something forgotten, a moment shrouded in nostalgia from childhood
something like a million little ants on the sidewalk
something like being alone in a forest outside my grandparents house
if i'm writing truthfully it is soft and delicate
fragile, no not fragile, but crystalline
and her eyes that looked so unafraid into mine
and i was always the first to look away
and i will always be the first to look away
the drive home was fast and i was light
and it was a moment of pleasure that i should hold on to
like the tralfamadorians do
and it will just as pleasant to take medicine and fall asleep
to Daniel Johnston screaming about Satan in the woods
and how some things take a life time
and i wish i were a better writer when i am
sick and/or happy

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