one way ticket

i stood there at that bus stop

on the hill,

waiting:

book in hand,

reading about the galapagos islands

and a sailor turned poet

who almost crashed into them.

next to me a tree bloomed into a fence;

i didn’t know its name.

i stood there at that crossroads,

wanting:

a purpose,

a heading,

a sign,

a job.

it feels so long ago now.

but i felt the most alive then:

deep in that despair—with an edge of hope.

i knew somehow it would all work out.

i knew we would be ok.

but the desperation sharpened something in me

that will never be the same.

 

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interview with a worker bee

my love is on loan,

sent out on an aimless wind.

 

what happens here is between my

meticulous wings, always

 

buzzing, always hovering

above unnamed flowers.

 

the taste of completion

is like no other;

 

you keep moving toward it,

keep caressing the target:

 

knowing that on the other side

of the other side is a

 

convivial feast just waiting

for these mandibles.