i was moving to a new city.
you were staying put in the old dirty mean one
with nothing new in mind.
you said you were going to drive there with me
and help transport my bike,
and my mishmashed and meager belongings
that i knew were going to be out of place
and/or potentially unnecessary,
but were coming more for peace of mind more than anything.
we fought all night, at my parents house.
about things that we should have been fighting about,
and then, also, things that never make sense to anyone,
fully, — but can still, and will, be argued —
yet only in pitch blackness.
in this pitch black we eventually did fall asleep
in the winter coats of our very early 20’s, on my childhood bed,
in my childhood room.
[there are glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, to this day,
and i think they helped lull us to sleep finally
shaking us from our violent crying and yelling.]
we awoke so late.
i missed all the appointments i had set to look at rooms.
if this had happened 5 years later,
i would have spent the entire car ride
calling numbers from Craigslist postings
trying to find a place to live.
(hopefully one that had a place
for my bike to live, too.)
instead, we drove down silently-
me finally putting in a CD with ‘A Love Supreme’
on it, as a peace offering of sorts,
both of us knowing the bike very well may be
making this car ride back with us in number of hours.
we listened to ‘A Love Supreme’ on repeat at least 15 times.
though it could have been 50. 150?
the song droned on,
over bridges and toll roads and honking and merging.
it finally called me down from my mania.
and i begged you to pull over, and, weeping,
then weeped and begged for a way to re-enter
the bohemian life i was leaving.
it was good. it was real.
i was not ready to abandon it, yet;
i was simply doing what i thought i needed to do,
to become an adult.
i knew the move wasnt going to be right for me,
but it was a part of my progress. it was seemingly long ago,
and i am back to more artistic tactics
of creating a life worth living.
the manias are fewer when things feel more correct;
living truthfully provides me with a bright light
that shows even through dense fog,
and i can find my way to the other end
without feeling like i’ve lost an important part of myself,
(a part i don’t mind having tea with on damp days)
somewhere in the swirling weather.