To Craven
You drive on the wrong side of the road and cross the street without looking
both ways and walk through life with your shoes untied. You trip over your own
feet and walk into walls and burn your fingers on the flames that are too
pretty not to touch. You don't talk about your feelings. You cry over dead
birds and laugh at your own belly up fish. You were built to be a battleship
yet live as a sailboat. you wish you could be a canoe. You paint your nails and
your hair and your words but not your face. Never your face. You point at the
sun and dare it to outshine your big, blazing, beautiful brain and we all laugh
because we know that it never could. Sometimes you close your eyes when you
sing and sometimes you close your eyes when you dream and sometimes you stare
too long at your own light and burn your eyes. Questions litter your lips but
your tongue fills with the answers before I can even wonder. You are always
ready to learn. You can tell me who the eighth Czar of Russia was and how
cheetahs can run so fast. We don’t have the same eyes, nose, hips, knees or
feet. But the way your voice fills the empty space of a room and the sparkle in
your eyes when you stumble upon a book you haven’t read reminds me of the way I
was before I learned to lace my boots, ready to run from the cars careening
towards me head on. Don’t ever learn how to tie your shoes.
so sweet. Spot on.
ReplyDeletei just read it a second time and loved it more than before.
ReplyDeletelove it even more the third time.
ReplyDelete