something else

There is the driver that almost hits the biker, not because he wants to, but because he doesn’t see.

There are the people walking by the vagrant guy who is singing with so much soul,
not because they want to, but because they don’t hear.

There are the thoughts in my mind that keep asking me to look back instead of being here, right here.

And so many couples quarreling about very tiny things,
mostly because they have forgotten something very important.

My piano student who is fighting for his life, everyday,
and that beautiful woman I knew, who gave hers away.

The soil in my garden that is somehow rich and fertile after a long winter
and how everything -- every little seed always remembers where to go.

The friend from out of town that reminds me of the world. Somehow it’s all connected.

And my little mind that is partly in brooklyn, partly in the past, partly in the future, partly in fantasy.

I don’t want to be the same person you thought I was yesterday, and also, I want to be known.

There are the weeds that we pull that become mulch, protecting the seeds.

All this waste that could easily turn into soil, and then back into food.

A simple molecule that could be upcycled into something more complex
(at least that’s what my friend told me).

The blood that leaves my body. The blood, that could pour into the earth, nourishing new life.

It makes me dizzy, my mind fragmented. Today, I am less myself and more of something else.

There is this moment. There is that one.

There is the feeling I had with my friend like my world was getting bigger and bigger
just by having him in my garden. I had forgotten about change, about hope.

I want to connect with everyone I know and I also want to hide.

I want to have intimacy, to touch, to feel --
and also I want to be alone in my bed, to feel the stillness, and to sleep.