Because I needed to collect all
Of what had happened so far.
Both the awkward silence,
The pain that flavored it
Like salt
And the new kinds of joy
That I have now become familiar with.
Each time I sit
(Or stand)
I find myself wobbling
Back and forth between
Two positions
And mostly because
I have to straighten out
My own
Rollercoaster:
All of the people here
Who look like they are
Puppets
Are supposed to be teaching me
Well, they aren't
That's a sixty percent
Or if you prefer, twelve
Out of twenty
Ice cream might be nice
But conversation would be better
And we don't really feel
Like waiting in line.
"We can smell it on your breath,"
"So why would you stab me?"
"How long should we wait?"
"We did like his laugh," and
"That was perfect."
But now I've finally realized
That amazing things happen here;
In bookstores where
Almost-recognized glances
Ricochet between the shelves;
When you whisper to someone
He smiles, but only because he
Doesn't understand what you mean-
You laugh anyway.
Amazing things which
Not only
Come to life
But thrive in the darkness
Of the path between the afterlife of heroes
And Ancient Greece.
