Each time I read Michael’s post, a beautiful new world of possibility comes a little more into focus. I really should paint this!
For a while now
I’ve been tip-toeing
gingerly
around this
little tear in the fabric
of my whole world
and everything
I’ve ever known
or questioned
or waved to from afar
or shouted at
or outsmarted
or dreamed of lassoing
with real jute rope
or fallen in love with
or skipped rocks across
or retreated from
or tripped over.
Every time
I ask Hafiz
about cashing in
what’s left of my heart
for whatever it’ll buy me
and devoting
the rest of my foolishness
and failure
to forensic science,
he just nods
and points at this
little tear in the fabric
of my whole life
and everything
it might have been
or still might be
or was just starting to become
before I took a left
on Boylston
instead of continuing straight
and wound up
in this room
of star maps
and elk antlers,
dead auto engines
and stacks of manila
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Anything is Possible! 