voyeur.

if your lights
are on
when dusk falls (like a familiar blanket)

i

will look
inside.

i
will strain
to find
the life
inside
those
walls

my eyes might fall
on an o'keeffe
hung above
something older than
me

or they might
catch
a glimpse
of shadowed
laughter

and

plates full of
edible comfort -
hardly touched
by fork
and knife.

then
i,

i will stop
and stand

still

shivering

lit by the moon
and streetlight
and
i
will inhale
the sweetness
of
mystery

the beauty
of life
when
no one
seems
to be
watching.

listen.

if you stop
and wait
for the silence -
for the moment
when
nothing
happens -
when sounds don't exist
and even a pin
won't dare to drop -
you'll hear it.
the pulse
drum
drum
drum
the beat
cha
cha
cha
the fiber
that connects thoughts
movements
coincidence
motion
time.

but you have to
be patient.
because silence
is silenced
by
hurry.

gasping.

there is a moment when
even a glance
can change
everything.
and you suddenly
become aware
of nuances
sighs
and the weight
of
life.

possibly.

i am surrounded by books i've been meaning to read.
stacks of words
perfect bound
new.
sandwiched between
cover art
and epilogue -
sentences
i've never imagined.
thoughts
that aren't yet
mine.
authored by
many.
shared by
strangers.
now collect fragments
of my house.
dust that settles and stays
until my index finger
clears a path
to find the words
again.

things i know for sure.

1. a watched pot boils eventually
2. the early bird is sometimes just early
3. when you are nervous, you are growing
4. changing routines is healthy
5. boxes are for belongings, not for dreams
6. yoga fixes bad days
7. no one writes paragraphs like allen ginsberg
8. i am insanely jealous that john mcgregor wrote such a great first novel
9. if he hadn't written it though, i would maybe not be the same person
10. really, it shaped me
11. words are my playground
12. music feeds my soul
13. the importance of being happy at work is of utmost importance
14. if i use a word twice in once sentence, it is for emphasis
15. i still hate exclamation points
16. i am not, and will never be, a good proofer
17. but give me a sentence to write, and i'll make you feel something
18. my hope is that whatever you feel will start in your toes and move all the way up until your brain gets goosebumps
19. but even if you don't, i will still write
20. words are me

passing time.

it's amazing the clarity you can gain from spending an afternoon in the ER with your sister.
tucked back in last room in the wing.
sitting on half a chair.
listening to the distant sounds of breathing machines
and a drunk man moaning "hey" every three seconds
like clockwork.
hey.
hey.
hey.
you're forced to do something to ignore the code blue they just announced
so you sing a silly song
louder than the breathing machine
and the heys.
you try to get her to laugh
and to forget
that the gown she's wearing might be scented with someone else.
it works for awhile.
until the nurse comes back to flush her IV
because it had, suddenly, become bloody.
and i squirm at my sister -
this woman whom i've seen give birth
twice.

*note: she is fine. thank you for the concern :)

moments.

i was in an elevator filled with people who thought eddie murphy had just died doing a stunt.
they were older, plumper women. one was swaying, bellowing "oh, lawd. oh, lawd."

we stopped on the fourth floor to pick up a giant, deep-freeze looking thing with the word "flammable" marked prominently on the side.

the skull and crossbones just reminded me how much i hate elevators.

when we got to the sixth floor, i bumped the oh lawd lady out of my way, pushing her hips back over closer to the flammable cargo. and escaped.