{ good ghosts }

and we'll all be

safe til saint patrick's day

{ john mayer }

i feel like this on the inside
up a tree, up a creek, alone in the park.
all dressed up with nowhere to go ---

on the outside i have everywhere to be, everyone to please. on the inside i am fighting for my life and fighting for peace. i don't want to go back down that river, flushed through a hardened artery at too fast a speed. i'm putting my hands against the walls of this vein and i'm traveling at my own pace. may the body of the world be kind. (what am i even talking about anymore?)

the people who care for me emerge like pale spectres in a slow dream. they are beautiful. i feel lucky. but most of them aren't here. so i walk solidly through the hard days with their ghosts trailing behind me, swirling around me, lifting my hair ---

i want to feel my feet on ground west,
up the hill, across the creek, through
the front door with the flappy screen.
i want those slants of sun across my face,
the pages of a friend turning three feet away,
the ever-changing sun through an open hand.
i want that moment back, the very first one,
when i heard your call and knew
i would never be the same again.

until then---
she