Saturday, December 24, 2016

Peter Pan

I am Peter Pan, stealing little boys from Wendy
 I am Captain Hook, missing a right hand and still going to hell
  I am Mr Smee, you see, it's me
   I am John, the first to surrender
  I am Michael, the first to believe
 I am Tinker Bell, resisting aggressively passive
I am Crocodile, inevitable time for me

Hey, the coffee's ready! I enjoy these days when I can sit down and look around, look at her, look at the trees, and just ignore what's inside my mind. The unending flow of all things, both rivers and streams and trickles and drips and oceans and boiling seas.

 She clumsily bumps into the heater as the phone beeps off. There's a way to do all of these things. It requires a trust, a faith, in something that's on the other side, in the nature, in the ringing in my head, in the way the light from the sun looks on the edges of the clouds, how the shuffling cars on the road grind down—

In a strange moment
  self-awareness
  hearing one's self
 and wondering
why
  for whom
  for what
 why

I see the woodpecker pecking
climbing
  how do their necks do that?
What does that feel like, to slam your head over and over into a wall?
  It felt painful, but strangely relieving.
 Cracking open your head hurts in a dangerous way.
Sometimes you learn things about pain that you didn't know about.
  Sometimes you learn it's not your own fault but something else.
  And you learn to accept that.
     And then the universe falls away and nothing is there but you.
     And if you don't trust yourself, then you fall away from yourself.
It's only
      She stops me unintrusively to give my coffee and stretch
   she and I talk about Bailey's
  we just bought a large bottle of it last night since it was
 the only one they had in the store
and it's wonderful to see her smile like that
 the curling tightly inwards at the topmost corners of her lips
    where there is this harlequin fanaticism
       of a woman's childlike joy
   because I mention alcohol
 and I know she's Irish
and so
I wonder
  why
  for whom
   for what
 why

stealing lost boys from

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