If it was up to me,
you would already be
in this peculiar here and now
You would feel at ease
in the frenetic pace of search engine
Do you remember when all that mattered
was the cloud-covered water glass
and the hot buzz of the cicada song
on a kitchen-hot September day?
-your flailing limbs
and sweaty knees
all adding up
to something more.
Do you remember when
life felt like honeyed dust mites
floating by a sun-sleeping cat
in the thin shadows of noon?
Do you remember the aching,
bone-deep truth of this romping, electric life?
-that you, just as you are, have a place
in this wild and broken family of things.