Intergalactic understanding

As you lay there, ailing
On my bed.
And I was an Ocean
And a half away
My story was melted and
Recrystallised for you
With very little of what
I had to say.

It took me some time to bring it together
But you were gone, With the second hand version
You left at a time when
I was still busy
Finding an end or a conclusion

It breaks my heart to think
About you
I would have talked then, if
I could
But a strange flash of insight
Tells me that it is all understood.

Feline Fantasy

No silver anklets, thank you!
I don't need those pointy stilettos either
To announce my arrival, or the music
Around my being alive.

Tell me more about you, or let's
Just talk about the weather
Don't ask me where I am going
Because I may not know, or worse
I may be heading where
Where you don't usually let your thoughts go!

After a while, even judgment loses its edge
And talking about choices
Turns into one of those futile
Social see-saws, which you put me on,
To feel good about yourself

The key to feeling great is to live
Like a cat; jumping off balconies,
Squeezing through gaps, using
Flexible ribs and whiskers
Accomplishing great kills
(Rats, squirrels, pigeons)
Without a single, audible, footfall.

Release

Feelings can sometimes be abandoned

Just like getting out of a pair

Of really tight jeans, at the end of the day.

And crawling into the soothing softness

Of a well-made bed. 

Not thinking about tomorrow 

Not thinking about today

Just taking a break before

You have to get back into

The same pair of pants. 

Next morning, renewed, you're ready

To confront them

To accept them

To analyze them

To ignore them

To deny them

To change them

Whatever. 

It's nice to not just have them on,

Right now. 

Poet Killers

The happy purr of a broken fridge
That keeps a background score
To the orchestra of other broken things
A stressed pressure cooker, and more

Time killed at the hands of clocks
As alarms and cell phone reminders sing,
Seconds, minutes and hours spent
In making a respectable living

A stable baseline, with a whiny pump
Not loud enough to be annoying
Happiness as absence of angst
Where everything seems, just fine.

Love Letters

Why do your feelings speak so much better
One year later?

After the last box has been shipped, with my
Flower vase, uncompromisingly chipped.

My mailbox carefully organized, to skip
Even an accidental memory trip

When finally the joy of facing my fears,
Trumps the reasons for recurring tears

After I have carefully rewritten our past,
Using only the reasons that made it not last

What is the point, now, of telling me
That I make such a beautiful memory?

Is it because, now it can be said, with openness
Without your being committed to my happiness?

Mindfulness

It so happens at some point,
That we find ourselves enmeshed,
In someone else's irrevocable past,
Or its careful reconstruction, with all the moments,
That we chose to leave out of our version.
Or carefully strewn into someone's future
Fulfilling roles we were never meant to play
Someone's calculation, or manipulation
Someone's broken image of a best friend
Someone's angry and helpless  remorse
Someone's regret, someone's idea of betrayal
Constantly balancing on logic, that works on both sides

All of this, carefully covered under the hood
Of moving on; seemingly, towards future
Trying to act genuinely interested,
When secretly thinking of chocolate toast
Zooming in and out of Venn diagrams
Of social circles; getting the pleasure
Of being rolling stone, a thing-doer

Sometimes, all this buzzing is exhausting
The same circles of friendships and falling in love
Of self-evaluation and actualization; of all this noise
Going back and forth between absent pasts and futures

But it also happens to be,
That at this very moment, right here,
All of us are absolutely free.

Contamination

It isn't fair that there is a little passage
That connects reason and feelings
Sometimes, thoughts cross over
To the other side before you can capture them
Then they come back contaminated
With an unnecessary sense of purpose
And sometimes, feelings ooze
Into the other room, and come back
Rationalized and diffused

Shrinks spoil a good irrational depression
By linking it methodically to fathers (or mothers)
Reviewers dampen the claim to fame
By pointing a finger at error bars
Global warming interferes with long drives
And love, becomes a (reversible) neurobiochemical reaction

How exhausting it is to know
That every single decision is going to be sound
In retrospect.