it is early in the morning
and I stare at my coffee
but I can’t see the future.
if I could, I’d want to change it,
but that’s not part of the bargain.
the past is either set in concrete,
or a mirror full of strobe lights–
the coffee won’t explain that either.
everything I do
sets something in motion
I get dizzy.
We lay on the ground and stretch our arms wide
and pretend we are airplanes––
someday we’ll fly away
up up into the happiness clouds
up where it’s fluffy and funny and free
with lots of oxygen and plenty of room
and hapiness for miles
everywhere you look
we will barely remember where we came from
or remember as much as we want
but only with amusement and pleasure and
gratitude and it will look like
a landscape tapestry where every
piece every thread every dot was
perfect and exactly where
it was meant to be
and we will fly to the stars
and swirl with the galaxies
and dance the cosmic dance
of love only love