Writing

No. I don't want to love you.

I don't want to play songs that sound like you

until they become my whole head, I don't want

to write a poem 

if you ever call me laughing and cold

I know its not a competition,

but it always feels like I'm losing to you

Whenever I do something

You always have to do it too...

I'm losing to a game that I never signed up for,

Small child, big Sandbox 

The bench tied to the big dog 

Big kids digging a hole to China 

Little cousins drinking from the sprinkler 

The stickers on the lamp posts that don’t go away. That is God. Embedded in my scalp under my hair where I can not see, there is God.

 Through the knotweed. Down the ladder made of tree roots. Up onto the big rock. By the river.  I stand, mud on my ankle and cuts on my knees. The sun sits just barely above the trees as the sweat sits just above my brow.

I feel at peace when I’m out in nature. 

The soft wind blowing in my hair,

The sounds of birds talking to each other.

It is all amazing.