love note to today #1

Warmth and light and the crescendo of soothing music among grey soft sheets and it is morning again — morning, the same morning as it was just a few hours ago when it was still dark but birds were starting to sing and sleep finally came. Lemon and water and the blur of unaided vision — -then, out into the blaze to carry plastic bag of laundry, carefully folded, dropping wallet, dropping keys, dropping everything on the sidewalk at the beginning of the day.

I could not sleep, I told you but you weren’t there, you were in Kenya with the most magical girl in the world, or maybe you are with God like they told me in church on Sunday or maybe you never were anywhere at all, I don’t know but with longing pushing up into tears again and life slipping away all I know is it hurts and I want something that is never there.

Oh, the language of trees, he said, the man who could hear music in silence, whose native language was of pigeons, fluttering leaves, rituals of rain.

A woman of unfulfilled potential said Sherman Alexie on the radio today, while the water poured down my body (a little chubby, unlike the most magical girl in the world) like indigenous women everywhere like my grandmother like I feel every day, even knowing my luck, knowing my position, paralyzed by it — I won’t be, I can’t be. And Brooklyn is leaving me, strange and shimmering Brooklyn, where I can walk a mile and come to the native lands of hiphop, another mile and be in the zone of refugee hipsters from the Midwest — and here, where books appear on the stoops of brownstones in the French coffee shop where everyone is always discussing their children and the last trip or the next trip to Europe. Where the coffee is perfect and free, because I talked to the barista, asked him about his life and now he knows me. Here, where loneliness and possibility bless each day, where you have to kiss the love as it flies by, just above our heads as we stand looking at the sidewalk and complaining of the heat, this perfect city.