1)

What would I say
if I could say anything at all
that is, and so, I wonder what could I say
that would make a difference?

Or at minimum
what would I tell you
if I could tell you something
that would wipe away
the sorry yesterdays
or clear the cobwebs of our cowardly secrets?

I have said and told you
if I could then I would.
But like my childhood saying goes
If I could, I would
but I can’t so,
I won’t.

I suppose if you asked me
or if you wanted to know about
what I love most,

then I would have to say

it’s the way you twirl.
No seriously. . .

It’s the way you manage to dance
(somehow)
when you walk or gaze at the sea
and you do this so purely
and beautifully,
even while the rest of the world turns
I watch you to see you
deep in thought.

God,
How does the do this?

I love how you smile,

or how you manage to maintain your posture
even while the world around you
is heavy
or weighing you down.

The key is
to listen when the music plays,
and dance when you in the rain
and sing when the song cries.

Never stop this –
not even if the band stops playing.
Just keep dancing.
Never give up
or give in.

No. By all means
Keep the music alive and well
and let this play
and let this keep beating like a drumbeat
that pulses in your heart

The truth is
symptoms are not the problems
and therefore
treating symptoms becomes nothing else
but a costly cycle.

In the beginning
I can see how I thought that I was nothing,
but, in fairness,
something about the need to feel better
was more than just a need to feel better.

Maybe this was caused by the drive
or the need to be more to you
than just “someone similar.”
Maybe this was enough to make me
want you in ways that seemed
crazy, if you will,
or maybe carnivorous is a good word,
or perhaps I should say
you make me hungry . . .

In the beginning

1)

Wintertime . . .
The cold is nothing like it used to be
at least, not to me.
Then again,
nothing is like the way it was
or the way it used to be
at least, not to me.

Nothing is like the way things were
back then
or back when we were young
and seeing things
As if they were brand-new
and out of the box.

I remember though
the City . . .

I wonder what most people would say
if they could say anything at all
without fear, of course, or worrying that
perhaps they said too much or revealed themselves
in just such a way.

I wonder what I would say
if I could say anything else
without worrying
that I said too much.

Understand?

How far have we come
since then
and what have we learned at all,
if anything?

There is a great misconception
which states that
we are all the same
or that if one thing is true,
then something else has to be true,
like if you do something bad,
you can never be good.

Well?

I find that I am closing in on a brand-new start
which means the last few chapters are in the past
and here I am again, standing at the doorway
of some new beginning.

It’s amazing,
I say.

This year is about to become the last
and the last two years are going
to move farther away
and deeper into my past,
like decades that have turned into ghosts
known, but not seen or
heard, but gone like the wind.

Or should I say
at least I hope so

I started this journal
with the question that asks –
and then what?

The truth is
I don’t know what comes next
or what comes after this.
I don’t know if today
will be the day
or tonight will be the night.