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for Katiebeth, who knows
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Things before today are divided: Good & Bad & Ugly. An eve of I mean the opposite thing. Things are divided every day, in every way, all over the place. Now, not a wall but a window, a room with a view, and not the late flinglets of laundry almost too late to tolerate. This best wish for you tonight, and tomorrow. Tomorrow, things will be divided in a surer, sunnier, way. Where hope wished the luck it never needed, where I don’t know the end of the story, and know still to smile.
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There are always better uses of time and self, and this is nothing new. Let’s light the bane of all this cruelty and stup, just long enough to read by and go to bed comforted. Let’s Europe our trade in a way that combines dream and function like fact. Let’s talk later about the tomatoes and chilies I held in my mouth tonight, tightly against my tongue like they were trouble dissolved and delicious.
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It is a chia beautiful tension that beckons you to others. That is what gives you the right to go free. Others, in petty maneuvers that belong in a punk-mall pout, may not even know how to accept such an instance of love, of caring, of being. To the punks, you are leaving them incomplete, through no fault of your own.
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There are acres within you, a wild horse within. May you tend to them as well as you have, for as long as I know you, and still beyond. Let those hooves not let up until they’re straight up and tired.
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Let your horse roam free and grass-fed and forever free of hurt (in your mouth or otherwise).
