honeydunce

Take this night and make it my every one, of sitting and sipping coffee where people are both quiet and loud and there is music playing–music that reminds you of old stomping grounds because the band is from there too and it just reminds you of what you were doing years ago, how much you were and were not living and thinking, respectively. But that is not really, truly important. Not like the being here, and the hands on words, over words, coming back to get the sentences that fell off the back.

It’s mild for the end of October so the front door is open which means the random house fly tiptoes across the table. I have blank paper and a book and my brain and that’s it. This much I know. If I could do this every night, and every morning, and every in between, I would. And that is what matters.

Is who I am everything that happened? Oh shit–the cd is skipping. Adults come in, in suits with little cameras in their phones and they take pictures of the children in costume, being so innocently annoying that I stop what I am doing just to watch. It doesn’t feel like my movie, but they are all characters. Even the front counter cookies and the contact in my eye. Who needs anything really but watching?

This much I know: the self deserves a fair shot and I’m the only sucker with placement and aim and if not now then not ever; get to a place where alone is okay and where chaos can be quiet–somewhere that sounds like my heart but grows hums instead of valves. This much I know: there are days when I feel that I will never belong anywhere and there are days when the only place is where I just left and we are not suppose to have the answers because we’re so completely human that it seems nearly written before wrist bend finds pen. This much I know: I will write till I die. I will find whatever make sense from whatever is around me, and if it is strange I am at home–if we go down laughing instead of swinging, join in.

This much is true: a life unlived will live you a bit then leave you. The only thing you need to be is everything you are.