Tuesday, November 21, 2023

Honey, I get stoned on your love all the time


Are you receiving me? Are my pleas crackling through the white noise of your day? Will you brighten my doorstep with your goofy grin?

Really, it’s quite possible that I have become insane. You have the receipts—this blog and my journal—so please shock me back to reality.

Let me know that I’m alive for you, that this sense that I’m dying is false, that we’ll meet again in this life and not somewhere that is inhabited by small animatronic dolls. Maybe the same coffee shop where I was convinced we’d be busted forever? I thought we’d be busted and yet your kiss lifted me away from our small town and swept me into your spacetime, sucked me in where your galaxy swirled.

Sheila comes back to me eighteen times a day, every day for months, no concern with the how and when, just faith that it will be. Dinging my temple bell and listening to the rime peel into the day, clearing my space for you to enter.

No comments:

Post a Comment