synecdoche

he said, "you're perfect."

she said, "i'm a mess...but we fit."

they lay.

he wakes.

she is dead.

smoke inhalation.

end scene.

trains & planes will pass by.

passengers will wave at the blur, not really knowing

that i saw them & was waving back...

but i know.

from where i stand, there is no blur.

a very clear picture of your face & eyes & tears...

waving at what you don't even know is there.

so i run home & write you a letter.

telling you that i saw you, even though you couldn't see me,

& that i waved back at you & was sorry you were crying.

i'll never know if you received it.

never know why you were crying

or what you were waving at.

never know if it made you feel better that i saw you.

but that, that i will know...

i saw you.

& somehow, that is enough.

me-ME-Me.

there's an echo with the crickets tonight.

i am an ocean & you are a boat, lost on me.

i fear the effect of medicine.

it takes a hold of your heart & your hand

& moves you into places you have to convince yourself of.

kittens & cubs roaming in parking lots

late at night with kisses & words to spare.

you found me.

you found me there!!

hiding, drunk, slightly confused.

in 4 seconds you defeated me.

no, not me.

ME, the straw man.

& in that victory, you created Me.

a man called storm & a man called peace

are arm wrestling in a truck stop

in a city hardly known just outside the state line

i raise a glass & look on as the weather patterns change

& threaten our little home

it's a sick feeling really when you don't know the words

but say it anyway & know exactly how to look

a monster will crawl back in his hole for this

he will lose his name & his pride & his dark green, matted fur for this

& then the crows will come

circle the city & sleep on the high lines

looking down on the place where the fields were cleared

& metropolis rose like the devil with a handbag

the streets will slowly fill the with faces of the nameless

who's feet move in automation towards the places they don't even know they're going

i will move quietly among them, having lost all but my soul

a bright glowing neon "open for business" sign

& this then is how you will find me

"at some point, there has to be a dose of grace,

a dose of forgiveness...then the cure of forgetting can happen.

let go or it will always be there & you'll always be fighting it."

close your eyes

turn off your head & your ears & the world

sleep sweet dear child,

tomorrow is not today

& the bridge from here to there

is only long & dangerous in the waking life

hold my hand

it's strong & old & familiar

see a world where snow falls

& we might walk light enough to barely make out our foot prints

or fields of white flowers

where we can find the pride in each other again

if just to smile

just to laugh

just to forget

for one sleeping moment

dream again

so it seems.

i feel as though we are all extremely fragile beings.

broken & fragmented at some point or another,

holding the pieces of us in our bloody hands.

extremely volatile & searching for the one that will put it back together.

we cower at the touch of most anyone.

our nerves, torn & exposed, even the faultless wind stings & bites.

we build involuntary cages of rusty barbs to protect us,

but when we move they tear their guard a little deeper.

it's fruitless labor to keep ourselves "safe"

but we have no choice if we ever want to fly again.

we stagger through the snow & fight to keep our weary arms raised high above our heads.

it's the curse of being wounded.

all of us, stopping the bleeding & cutting new arteries.