Letting In (Dance In The Cracks - Part 1 of 3)

Yesterday after work

I found a small orange notebook in the mail

Feel shaky as I read

and after

as the sun's setting

I take a walk

to feel my way

to think about you

It happens to be Halloween

and the sky is getting darker

more meaningful

and the kids in costume

fashioned or bought

are all about

Have you ever noticed

how our culture never seems so healthy

red cheeked

life affirming

as on Halloween?

With everyone in on the exciting ritual

with the homes of the streets open

When I long for a utopia

or some ideal at least

perhaps I ought to console myself

with the fact of suburban Halloween

Is this not a good sign?

A fine ideal?

My thoughts and feels as I walk

are much the same as they have been

a month

two months

more

But they're taut

teething

And so I attend to them

over and over

as they come upon me

It's like this:

I feel so much tenderness for you

don't want to see you go

Parts of me pitch fits

clench up

with all their force

turn into desperate White Dwarves

But I still have some energy

some light

And I want to make a play

to pursue you

Exhaust it, as a possibility

because I will always wonder

because I never fully have

Like a psychology student

or a mountain top fire spotter

I wish to sell myself some silence

Sell some to you too

If I can manage

I've said that I didn't have any regrets

out on the beach

some warm bellied resilience

but I'm thinking now that that conclusion was premature

Truth be told I wish I would have born my neck to you

more than I did at least

Let you in

Stopped showing off

And above all

Indicated where the gravity pulled

choked

Pointed out where the cracks lay

In your small orange notebook

you showed the gravity

spoke in your own voice

through the cracks

and I hear it

And even though

it was likely not intended

I listen like I'm sitting beside you

like you're Wittgenstein

holding my hand

letting me in

to your newest, vital meditations

to the R behind playful coolness

cultivating freedom

independence

solitude

searching for a way out

through

And I want to speak too

directly

More in my own voice

the warmth rushing out

something I rarely did

wished I did more of

and I want to say why

why I rarely did

wish I did more of

Maybe this takes time, care

Will you follow me

follow me just a bit?

Will you sit beside me here

take my hand?