Thinking of You

Haven’t been a good friend in a long, long time,
You still followed me though alleys of darkness
addicted to self-mutilation, contemplating an empty eulogy.
Who do you think you are!? Why would you sink so low?
On the surface you stand unmoving, your legs, drenched in my problems,
I am not worthy, tainting your ivory robe, mentioning your name;
you go through grief and pain in my name,
pulling me into your movements, up from the undertow.
Wow. I am not hallucinating on Lucy’s Diamonds,
maybe I am, no one seems to understand my adoration:
More than my dad, mom, girlfriend,
than strawberry ice cream on a sweltering summer day,
or the sound of rain.
In love with the possibility to live fully,
giving me, the unemotional lackey of logic, passion.
You do more than suffice. Kill me, if you give satisfaction
I am so familiar with the book of life,
Can’t see the power behind each crimson letter.
You held out a hand to the homeless sitting in his rain soaked box,
Hugged the Goth with his ghost face jumping in the concert pit,
Listened to the troubles of the girls dancing in the Bay Area fog.
"Do.-Do.-Do.-Do." You sing daily revolutionizing my senses as
I dance in the rain, laugh at the thunder, and bow to the lightening,
hearing your voice above the children crying, the horns of rage honking, the hypocrites calling on you.
Never want to go all the way, because I never can,
but can try and will put my love into words and actions-
which give them less justice than fetuses received in ’72 –
Sharing because I want to give a glimpse, cover their cares.
Stumbling in the slippery mud, Stand up!
refreshed and ready to battle spirits from a different dimension;
I can hear their fascination with you:
from my friends and the celebrities (miles away, but we see everyday),
Staining everything you created, hanging loosely in the air,
my hope and reason behind my pain,
I smelled you when mucus barricaded my nose and I couldn’t breathe.
My scholarship to happiness: Free and paid ahead of time.
I do not fear and welcome death,
But please let me work two lives chalk full of changed lives, hopeful hearts, and luscious hugs of serendipity
you planned for me before I began.