Again

Lecturing My Body

Here's the deal: You
take care of me,
I'll take care of you.
The body's a car
Whatever's-not-the-car,
that's the driver.
Or the car's an animal,
the driver a zookeeper.
The animal's a ditch,
the zookeeper a wheelbarrow.
A wheelbarrow bringing
tobacco, whiskey
& even love because,
well, just because.

Jefferson Carter

Thanks and thanks and thanks giving.

These are the moments I wish I could hold onto forever, when I feel perfectly happy, perfectly at peace, perfectly fitted into the world around me, perfectly overflowed with an abundance of love nearly unixed with pain or loss of any sort. I try to etch them into my memory, but of course they're soon gone.

This was a thanksgiving, tonight my brothers and my mom came over. I cooked for them, it was sort of last-minutey, the food was perfect, they were all here and relatively happy, we talked for three hours, they went home with basically all the leftovers, we have an American thanksgiving plotted in the future.

I will never, have never got used to such an abundance of people, such an abundance of love. I have family who love me, who are fascinating people, who I love back. I have a network of people, a constellation with stars near and far, tied to me with industrial cables or with strands of gossamer. I am a kite, a child on a swing, a climber in a cliffside hammock. I may look down, but I am borne up.

I am plotting a gathering in my home, of my loved friend-folks, in December. I'm pretty excited.