Sunday, February 22, 2009

the right way

It's strange to trust myself but I am wired at 3 am because I am right.

Dark curves and white lights. I don't need drink or drug but damn, I'll take chocolate. Can we be ourselves in loose clothes and quick lips? I hope so. We play them best.

And I think I'm more myself here than I was much of the time elsewhere: silly and sassy with a leg up on the couch and a hand coloring, talking crying laughing at 3, 4, 5am, face stoic and voice stern with lines crossed, the writer the runner the gymnast the girl. Yet so much beyond the girl. Twenty-three and I feel it without fear. I'm this tall forever and I like it down here, my mind dances high enough for both of us.

You're the only one I really sing with. We don't know where to go but we sing the same words. I think I just wanted human contact, I say, and you laugh because you know. I tell you my plans because I'm finally excited--I'm happy now and what says I won't be then?

"I think you're going the right way!" you say.

I think so too.

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