The cement truck spins, bananaquits sing, and air plants drape from power lines
as we float on currents like a message in a bottle to some unknown future
I'm trying to write poetry that I don't want to forget
but I'm not looking where I'm going
or feeling where I am
Nor do I know what I'm trying to say
I seek a purpose on paper
a document or a reason for being
But the connection I seek
Is the revelation of the clouds in your salty sunglasses
Winding roads, dizzying sunshine
The real glory of life--the depth and the truth of it--
Is found in the messy realness
a breath that doesn't make it all the way in
or out
the twists and turns of confusion and discovery
Then maybe I have the flower of its essence within me
Maybe I am experiencing life to the fullest
I just don't know it