I am always the same experience
but never quite before.
I've walked very far away
yet always been right here.
Details select my mind as their parent,
yet my mind is like a boy scout to my hand,
with writing,
always helping me cross the page.
Usually I find myself at the place
where I am lost for words.
Often I walk up the sound of my speech
to find an empty room.
Today grammar stands before me,
edgy and eyeing my unspokenness.
My skin is really my only beach
and I am the ocean within.
I look into people's eyes
and understand the patience of billboards,
yet I look through people's eyes
and see time has lost its composure.
Experience is my favorite animal,
I sometimes pet with memory.
When I drink liquids,
I feel tall mountains step aside
to sip from within,
yet when I close my eyes
debonair gravity introduces me to what I feel.
I only pretend to meet people
at our apparent newness,
for I keep finding our sameness
from beneath my awareness constantly appearing.
I've known your comfort
yet you're unfamiliar to me now.
When we touch
underground rivers within me begin to hum.
When we shake hands,
our bodies seem delightfully so far away.
When we kiss,
I am embarrassed by our separateness.
When we make love,
we take off our edges.
People I make no sense to
find me honest, in other ways . . .
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