And now lift and slide your foot, and slightly arc it front to
back gently scraping the pavement – and make that sound;
the one that lets a blind man know you’re dancing, or at
least contemplating beginning to…
Don’t sleep – not yet – and stay a while. I want to believe
in you like I believe in breathing. When I lift my eyes to
your eyes I want them to say that love is no complicated
labor – that a secret is to tell, that mine is, I am afraid…
This is no circus, even though you know a man thirsty
enough to climb an aerial ladder and jump into a small
glass of water and a woman who has tattooed her skin
with every single phrase she has spoken.
Mainly this is a train station and every once in a while
one of us arrive or departs – we come and go, or we
wander platforms selling tickets to anyone willing to
travel towards us as a destination.
If you play an instrument, play, and if you sing, sing
loudly, and do not rest as an audience member or a
hand clapper. Don’t get me wrong, applause is
wonderful but what will you do for an encore?
Beliefs seem to fail at accomplishing anything more
than the centrality of their own endeavors, how
much easier it might all be, if their only tasks were
to strive towards connectivity and transcend anger?