my chest expanding
like I can't breathe enough..
It doesn't hurt though -
it's just like a bunch of extra air
that wakes me up with a gentle punch and
opens my eyes a bit wide.
It catches me off guard as I realize I'm alive,
and that is extraordinary.
Sometimes it comes to me
on the metro line,
headphone soundtrack snythesizes
my heart strings in time:
this body imagines it's dancing right there
to the beat in it's seat, or skipping along the street,
like Beyonce whenever she feels like kicking it
flash-mob style wherever she damn well pleases.
That's me,
when it comes to me.
Sometimes it comes to me
as a fluttering thought of the butterfly friend of
my youth who was crushed too soon,
her wings take flight in
my memory of her and the
adventures I take on her behalf, we fly.
When it comes to me,
it is perfectly ordinary that
we fly.
Sometimes it comes to me
when I hear the words "peanut butter" and
sometimes
when you're sitting next to me on the couch and lean in close to talk,
wine and electricity pulling us in,
it comes to me.
When the words of a friend's song become a soundwave
that courses through my body like a tidal wave
washing over me, it comes to me.
Like when in silence,
it comes to me.
Pang of love, for the smile in the mirror.
Paddle through the blue, still like glass but gliding.
Photo of mystery captured.
Tears of laughter.
High of the mountain top.
Sigh after making love...
it comes to me.
Sometimes it comes to me,
a poem wrapped up with twine in a bow,
complete,
before like a gift it's set free through
shivers and goosebumps while the lightened soul passes to the world
as I realize I'm alive,
and like when it comes to me
when death is sitting in the living room,
the most ordinary thing in the universe...
I realize I'm alive,
and that is perfectly extraordinary.
It comes to me,
I'm alive.
