part 2

expansively flat and wide, short and suffocating, tall and epiphanic, the short-lived eternal gray sky of a prairie midwest fall into winter was the moment of conception.
It was later, at the banks of a southern Illinois lake that I met your mother.  She was no where near southern Illinois at the time.  But we met, where she needed to meet me.  To be introduced, and again.
It is a thread that loops and pierces and tugs, pulls, loops again to pierce, tug, and pull. At once, material pulled into a bunch, secured and inevitable. The gift of a flower - inevitable, but fragile, and perfect.

part 1

There is a time of the season, in middle America, when the clouds are heavy.
By heavy, I mean thick.
Thick to cover the sun.
Without rain.
It was under that sky that I sat alone.
Well, it was under every sky that I sat alone.
A sad silhouette staring out of a second floor library window.
I was wearing Levi's.
They were tight.
I saw not a future.
I lived not a past.
I was me.
But this is for you.
Why?  Why would you care about a single moment in a college library, wearing Levi's, gazing at a busy, yet lonely landscape...

tonight

on the same day i gave up,
I imagined being there to save you...by being there.
it seems human.
to see our own futility,
and another's value.
human.
in an expansive universe
of love
and solitude.
emptiness
sadness and hope.
human.
tonight.
in eternity.

squished

When I feel squished, I don't ooze.
Unless you are counting tears.
But really, I don't cry.  I'd like to.  But the tears don't come.
I say, "please feel" and wait.
"Please Feel!" and grimace.
Screw it.
But you know, I care.  A lot.
I guess, you know, sometimes, I get "choked up".
That's good.  I think.  That I feel.
I shouldn't have to ask you.  I should know.  And, I guess that is the problem.
I do know.