Just Look Like We are a Married Couple Spanning Time

The crunch of the last dead leaves underneath my boot.

When I come home, I will strip myself of everything I think that I need and submerge myself into hot, almost boiling, water.

Such a strange tightrope, this balance: Keeping connection with love and with fire and with tenderness and with wholeness, all the while the leathers I have made over the years- of metal, of scar tissue, of ice- still hanging steadily upon my coat rack in case I may need them.

I may need them.

I may not use them, but I need to know that they are there.

Like checking your pants pocket for your wallet, or your hands for your keys.

I suppose it is more akin to checking the room for the exits, your keys for the metal file that dangles from its chain.

I've grown tired of those who do not recognize we who sleep with the hands of ghosts upon our shoulders.

The ghosts who shake us periodically but always from a peaceful dream

only to remind us

that we do not live in such a world.


be well; be loved,

k.

(title: Quote from Billy Brown aka finally a character I can relate to in Buffalo '66)
(image: Martin Rak)