Foreign Constellation

I look;

The reflection in the mirror.

Somewhere in there,

I am still existing.

I still believe in things

Art. Music. Poetry. Dancing. Love.

Clean sheets. Good hair days. Shoes.

High school.

This face though..?

I don't recognize

Like I did before.

It is perception

without understanding-

It's disconnect.

I know what I'm looking at:

That's an apple, that's a tree, that's a parking lot,

That's me.

Shape of the brows,

Blue eyes,

Long nose, weak chin but

regal profile.

Mess of hair.

I know it's me..

But...

In there?

Under the twenty pounds,

Under the wide hips and roundness;

Expansive roundness.

Round shoulders

round breasts round belly

round and round

the world

round and round

spinning.

I look?

Disconnect.

And I forgive my strangeness.

I forgive the stranger in the mirror.

Anyway,

I try.

What was and what is-

How does one make the points touch?

Like stars in a foreign constellation

Or my thighs.

I use to know

these dots

Freckles and eyelashes.

Spots of toothpaste.

Before and

After.

I look.

After,

I see.

I understand that I do not.

These dots- that touch like strangers at a carnival-

Shoulder to shoulder but isolated 

somehow 

ignorant on purpose?

I look.

I see.

Same eyes.

Different context.

Spinning, touching, round and

Disconnected. Forgiving 

strange skies-

I am still in here?

Somewhere.

Making all the stars touch.

Bridging the round and the gap and the unfamiliar spin.

New gravity.

Blue eyes.

Music. Poetry. Love.

I still believe.

This is a tree.. This is a parking lot...

That is a Joni Mitchell song and

There I am..!

And gone again; A flash of shadow down an alley I think I remember,

Quiet.

I keep looking.

Flash Forward

The other day we were returning that UHaul truck we'd rented-
You were asleep in the backseat.

The sun was already hot at 8a.m.; Another one hundred degree day.
Desert living.

And there were mountains all around- we passed the sign for the freeway
Leading to El Paso
and I thought: Let's just keep driving

I'll turn the radio up and you'll keep sleeping and
we'll just take an adventure- 
Go to El Paso.

I've never been to Texas.
Lone Star State.

Desert living. 
It was already hot at 8a.m.
Another one hundred degree day, the mountains all around…

Since we've moved, I've decided to try and write poems again
While you're sleeping and I have time on my hands. 

Life's not like it use to be.
Neither is poetry. 

Maybe that makes sense. 

Someday.
When the car is full of gas and the rents been paid, 
We'll drive out to El Paso. 
Just to say we did. 

I'll be 
crazy, 
and you'll be 
sleeping.

Desert. 
Living.