I can feel it
-this malfunction of my heart.
It is the queerest of feelings.
The beat of one's heart is so basic, common and essential
-but generally goes by unnoticed.
Until it is gone.
(A similar feeling happens with air, and the lack of it, I suppose.)
The beating is powerful and the lack is psyche shattering.
I hate when it stops, of course,
the world stops too.
Well, for me anyway.
(Probably not for you.)
But I wait,
every cell, nerve ending and memory
acknowledging the fact
But, so far
it begins again.
This time anyway.
I can only hope-that
next time it is the same.
So, this should explain me a bit.
The way I grab life by the shoulders
and kiss her full on the mouth.
(This is why I dance, read Neruda, play piano, seduce with words, pursue a perfect day, sacrifice much for my children, continue attempting to capture the beauty of nature with my Nikon, and eat not one, but two, Dark Chocolate cupcakes with homemade Strawberry Frosting.)
I collect people.
Many of you reading this
will find yourselves in that category.
Admired on a rainy day.
Shown off to friends.
I generally don't hold back
this knowledge from you either.
You are in my circle,
an orbit of sorts
perhaps more like a web
It is possible I invade your lives
as much as you allow,
because this persistent idea of things being temporary
rules my life.
and the futile dream of any man could be...
just remember me.