I have my feet on the ground,
but my head is in the clouds
and my mind is in the gutter.

And somewhere there is someone that can dispel this fog,
that can tether me to this earth,
or drag me from gravity’s sway.

Somewhere there is someone
whose skepticism melts the fog away
and whose arms are warm and optional.

I have my head in the clouds,
and my eyelashes are collecting ice crystals
while my ears fill with rushing wind.

I have my head in the clouds.
I have my mind in the gutter.
I have my feet on the ground,

and my bare toes are scuffed and cold.
My thoughts churn,
and my ears burn.

But you know,
there is someone.

Cold Snap

He shrugs,
and our sneakers shuffle uncomfortably on cool concrete.
Somewhere above us, a flag snaps as the wind swings slowly
from south to north – from summer to winter.
Just like that. In a snap. Summer to winter.

He shrugs,
and I am uncomfortable on cool concrete.

The silence breaks stubbornly, like it’s gone stale.

Yeah, well,
I guess I gotta hand it to him.

I do smoke, and drink,
and sometimes I kiss and tell.
Sometimes I do more than that.
Sometimes I smile about it.

I do all of those things,
and I still breathe.
And I still need people.
And so do you, boy,
though you’d rather not admit it.

I am uncomfortable as the silence breaks
like waves over the concrete, whispering
like the first of this season’s leaves scraping across the ground.
Like my voices rasps
as I say something noncommittal.

Yeah, just like that. Snap.
Summer to winter.
I gotta hand it to him.

A Casual Summer

We spent the summer with the stereo up loud,
with the windows down and the speedometer jumping,
just practicing casual conversation
over the dull roar from the speakers.

We spent the summer singing and spinning,
letting the earth cradle and rock us
to sleep,
nested casually and comfortably with our friends,
watching the stars in their infinite wisdom,
in their infinite distance,
in their imminent death
turn great wheeling circles in the sky.

We spent the summer storm-chasing
and we watched the wrath of god proclaimed
like a banner across the sky –
we saw through lightning-dazzled eyes,
with raindrops clinging to our eyelashes
and our clothes clinging to our skin.
When our clothing was too confining,
we took it off, and we reveled in the ease of it.

And at summer’s end
when the heat fled
and the stars turned frigid and unwelcoming,
we remembered the closeness,
the casual comfort,
the roar in our ears and the moisture in our eyes.

We remembered the dazzled eyes
and the shedding of our second, too-tight skin –
and we made the thunder come again,
casually.

Well, it was all so casual, so easy –
so easy to get lost in the thunder,
to go blind in the rain,
so easy to be the wreckage,
so easy to be the debris,
so easy to be a casualty
when it’s all just so casually free.