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there is luck.  there is love.  there is mysticism.  there is
hemlock, black slaps, mental gymnastics, and other stuff of
snuff and fluff.  

snapshots of hilarity and endurance.

there is nothing to claim.  but i claim it. 

lilac wine.  under-dead.  ever-bloom.  my love,
both was never and there never was anything
that needed to happen for us to come together.  

i make no saints. i hold no grudges. 

i smoke two butts at 4 am thinking about things. 

a few minutes ago i woke up, checked my mail
from my phone, and read a message that she wrote
while i was sleeping.  as i slept she was reading,
as i read she slept next to me.  unrelated, but not –
apparently, we both have a slight snore that roars. 

it’s delightful. 

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this is where i should insert an excerpt from the
aforementioned message up above that i read upon
waking up but i am going to decide against it and
encourage you to fill in the blanks with one from
your life if you can and will and are still ticking –
“leave mine alone”, says him to self.

i will say this.  it was the kind of message where you see
how big it is. 

like the other day, when i was standing in the garden,
looking up at a palm tree, seeing fractals.

like now, standing in front of the fridge gulping
milk straight from the carton.

never had it, but it did and you know it.
that’s right, motherfucker.

(in love in somewhat private)