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.

comedy

I find it much easier to write angst than humor.  I want to feel happy, but I feel angst.   I shaved my dog.  It was funny.  But then it started to be less funny.  And there were a lot of questions.  Mostly about me (a few about my parents and one about my high school guidance counselor's suggestive note in my yearbook).  And once you've shaved the dog for a laugh, it's done, it's over.  Shaving the cat will be derivative.  Then, of course, there will be nagging abuse issues...and, all of a sudden, it will be decided that it was NEVER funny to shave the dog.  And, all of a sudden, you're the angst ridden loser you always were.  Write what you know.

guess

Why did you not notice?  Did you not care?
I did it for you.
I thought.  At the time.
But.  I guess it was for me.  
I wish you had noticed.
But.  
I guess you were hoping I noticed.

hope grows

Something is growing inside of me.  At first, I thought it was growing on me.  I searched.  I felt, I prodded, I rubbed, I stared, I stroked and poked.  I longed and fantasized.  I became obsessed, but found nothing of lasting substance.  I was clearly an exhausted victim of pleasured concern, but not a receiver of lasting satisfaction. 
Sorry, I think I got distracted. Where was I?  Oh, yeah...the growth is on the inside.  I think it (the growth) may be someone with whom I disagree.  Not completely alien, just unpleasant, like a politician.  Inside me.  Growing.  
I hope it stops growing so that I do not end up with a clever epitaph...I can't explain that except to note that something I predicted was inside of me, growing, and ended up killing me, may provide for a clever epitaph...but maybe it is something good that is growing inside of me.
Seems unlikely that an unexpected growth would be good, but maybe. Maybe.  I'll try to stay positive. My growth might be a celebrity!  A famous celebrity making a triumphant return to this glorious earthly realm.  I hope it is Samuel Langhorne Clemons...or Frank Sinatra...I'd LOVE to croon like Sinatra...but, it is probably a tumor. Probably a tumor, or possibly just a pimple.  Maybe Sinatra's pimple!? 
Yes.  
Now I'm sure of it.
  
Pimple.

Probably common; it can't sing.

again.

Crude laughter.  Why would I judge laughter?  Because, I am me: not us, not we, and still not free.  Please laugh your laugh.  Let me hear your joy.  Let me feel your abandon.  It will be brief.  It will be easy to miss.  It may someday be my tears.  If I get another chance, to hear your laughter, I will listen, I will allow a smile of release, a smile of love. My smile. Our smile. I pray.

Dad

Since his passing, seeing my dad in all things has helped me understand all things as both unique and shared.
Merry Christmas.

It's not important, but, it did happen...to me!

I told you about the dime I lost. "Dime" not being slang for a drug transaction. "Dime" not being slang for anything.  I lost a dime. 10 cents.  I don't think you were listening.  So, I am writing to you now.  I lost a dime!  Exclamation point.

i can't imagine what it is that inspires.

now

Do you remember yesterday, when yesterday was today, and yesterday was new, and today was tomorrow and now today, is.

happy

mrs. casey had a cow.
she loved her.
she milked her.
she looked up at the stars.
she was meant to have her cow,
to milk her cow.
destiny; hers,
to love her cow,
and mine,
to love her,
mrs. casey.

Hard

hard life,
hard earth,
hard rain,
hard work,
hard luck,
hard men,
hard women.
soft love.

boom

It is one of God's gifts to humanity that the shape of physical laws, expressed in nature, often takes the form of beauty (i.e., crystals, snowflakes, dewdrops, etc.).  
Me, and my shape, are more of a hybrid God-made/human-made form, like a nuclear explosion; pretty, but best viewed from a considerable distance.

answers

Through the drowsy-eyed blur that extends back into my brain, there are no answers.  There is only searching for answers, and not searching for answers.

addiction

you can and you do,
until you can't and you don't.

aye mate

I think it is possible that we are all Keith Richards.

jimmy trys to soften the blow, a little

legitographer - a descriptive word for a scientific instrument, and the operator of that instrument, neither of which yet exist.
tractolegitographer - legitographer for space use in the distant future.

I am aware that the descriptions of these devices may seem to deviate from their latin root(s).  There are a lot of things about the future that you are neither ready to understand, nor ready to accept - but one thing is a guarantee, it will hurt.

one thought

Grabbing at myself with a knowing gentle firmness - a knowing familiarity which can only be applied by the owner - I got myself out of bed.  3:10 am. 
A dream had soothed me, but my thoughts woke me.
To the bathroom.  I pee.  I surprise myself by calming those troubling waking thoughts with the memory of a dream. It was the dream that had just comforted me before the invasion of thought after thought.  I was in a familiar place of my pleasant dreams.  A place, just a place. A friendly place. A beautiful, simple place.  As near to a single thought as I can feel. The noticeable lack of complexity allowed comfort. That is the purity of a dream, the singularity of emotion, the simplicity of timeless unfettered being.
Back to 3:10 am.  I look in the bathroom mirror.  Thoughts again interrupt the pleasant calm of dreamy memories.  More thoughts. 
Turn on the water, grab the soap, and I quietly wash my hands while noticing the laundry on the floor.  I wonder if I have anything decent to wear for tomorrow. My job. Doctor appointment. Republicans, Democrats. Those people. The recital, and the parade, and the caregiver and the realtor.  I dry my hands on a towel that should be in the laundry pile.
I remind myself of the place that exists in my dreams, still fresh, I know it, I was there, in my dream. One thought, just right, one feeling, just happy. Tranquil. Peace, and, in an unforgotten moment, of a single thought, return to sleep.