Home alone, sitting in my living room. I want to write a poem, but I don’t know how it should go. I can feel a poem above my head, that’s where they always originate. They are like clouds that begin to collect rain. They hover like clouds, with bellies full of water. They come from another planet, with lives of their own. They say words that I can’t say. They baffle me often.
Right now I want to write a poem that is about love. The kind of love of best friends on an adventure with so much to gain and nothing to lose. One of those adventures that only best friends can go on, because they know the thoughts of the other person. They dream the same dream together, and never tire of telling each other stories by the campfire. They are in love together, and one is not too crazy for the other.
These best friends steal each other’s shoes, share clothes and show up with coffee at 7am because the other can’t get out of bed. These best friends can go on a secret adventure together that they can’t go on with anybody else. I want to write a poem about that adventure! Actually, I want to go on the adventure myself! But the partner-in-crime is out of state :-(.