beautiful year

It covers my chest and moves down to my stomach, a sleeping tiger that holds me a little too tightly and tries to keep the sounds from coming out of my throat, this might not be as emo as it sounds, but it might be much, much worse...given to long fits that make me think I might be possessed by tigger, I run from one curious thing to another, and find the entire world to be entirely fascinating, and on most days the world opens up to me like it were the most interesting guest at a party and I get to find out more about what it thinks about any number of meaningless and distracting subjects...and sometimes these things pour out their mundane water and spit and sweat and overflow into a well that is nothing if not sacred, those things that keep us busy in our heads, that make our tongues comforted by sweetnesses of possibility or memory or even real honey, they sometimes turn inside out and reveal their profound other sides, and this sweetness is mixed with bitterness in equal measure...this is half salt and half sugar and the scale is balanced...not a consolation, but it can't be a consolation, it's the body with its heart and nerve exposed in the world, these things make me feel...and it seems to wake up with the sun every morning lately, that I am more than a little optimistic and hopeful about everything in the world, but am more often than not guided by a remarkable sadness that is really at the center of everything...those things those heart those spirits who have a gravitational pull to me and all my curious senses, hold the same kind of sadness, even if none of us really understand it, what its for, what it did to us the last time around, or what it can do for us...and the best favor we can do, perhaps, is to talk to it, and listen to it, and ignore all the kinds of advice there are to fill it, because I suspect it keeps us breathing on long nights, and keeps us from trying to fill ourselves with something else from each other...because the best nights of all the thousand nights in a year when we find ourselves somewhere in love, we don't try to fill the gap, but make love to it in each other, or talk to it through each other, in order to acknowledge that we have the same mutual friend.