Work

I see you eating your pastry

Drinking your wine

Laughing, smoking

On kitschy, woven chairs

facing the street

so you may people-watch

or be watched

people turn into atmosphere

I peer in to your vacation-looking lives and think

I’d like to be like you

And laugh and drink and espresso and croissant

and repeat

but inside I know I am not like you

I did not come here for that

I wish I did

(well, maybe)

Oh I wish I did!

(hey, lady — maybe)

But I…

Well

I have work to do

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Where She Lives

anima

He dug his hands down into the Soul of things

And came up empty

Awakened, brutally, to the Other Side

Disillusioned, now

Afraid

Bitter like the dry dirt caked up his arms

From the constant digging

She calls to him, Look up, over there!

But he no longer trusts a female voice,

Even one that is not hers

If only he could get out of his own way

She is pointing him to rich soil

A well –

Wet and deep and thriving with Life Force that can sustain him

If only he can bear to try again

(Though he is so sick of trying)

To reach once more

To find what he was always meant to have —

His land.

His land.

Where She lives…