January 3, 2015

around noon on another saturday

Not more than twenty minutes ago I saw a man 
with brown, red-laced boots kicking air
bundled in denim layers to keep out the winter sun
writhing on the corner (alone)
the intersection
of two familiar streets
his boots hanging over the curb
all cars stopped at lights
some of us staring
the red light commanding us to stay
i watched his body lifting and falling
as if his spine were stuck in drying concrete
i calculated how to cross the intersection swiftly 
to help him
but strangely concerned
that
my fuzzy pink coat too silly
especially if
this man is dying
right now.

Sometimes I forget
for a moment
sitting in the sun
thinking about yesterday
wishing for tomorrow
how much love I have
heavy like a duvet.

Don't you just want to

climb underneath and stay warm
your breath sweet like honey
on my neck
the beating of your heart
against my arm
a shaman's drum
let's journey
now.

I want to lick the salt from your skin
again and again and again

hurry now,

the ambulance is on its way.