This was supposed to be a poem for me.
At least, it was when I started.
Maybe it's a little ironic
to start with how it wasn't supposed to be started
and tell you anyway.
You have always had a fascinating
way of turning me on my head.
I thought I knew what I was doing.
I thought I understood
leaving and living
and what makes me human
and how to feel infinite
or whatever the word is.
I am so much more than I thought.
You have persuaded me into noticing
and once I start I can't stop.
It's like meeting an old friend
that has been gone for ages
and suddenly they're everywhere:
in the same parking lot;
searching for the same book in the same library;
opening the silent door of consciousness in my sleep.
And this is just the start.
This is just the title page