for david
inspired by a talk we had late saturday night and stepping outside-
I could easily find myself waking up one day, taking up the role of little housewife, happy and content. But then I laugh and ask for how long? How long before we crack up and move on, love? For inside, I find the insatiable seed of revolution. Sure we can sit down and take a breather, babe, but it will never be enough, will it? Sigh. As much as walking on solid ground excited me and breathed life into my rotting corpse (But aren't we immortal?) as a child, I never tired of walking on water, walking on the verge. On the verge of what Hermann Hesse once called "drowning." The same rule applies today. I'm no longer afraid however insecure, unstable, and outrageous I still might be. I don't shudder from the cold, dark beyond half as much as I have. For I've found you. And even if bolts of lightning strike you down to nothing but thin air, I'll remain unafraid, even in this simultaneously solid and amorphous state. For what really is this corporeal concept of tangible bodies but a vehicle of sponge, blood, tubing, and other tissue. And also (Don't take this too seriously. Don't do something irrational for the sake of the most minute whim, my lovely martyr.) on the topic of thin air, it's actually a great compliment to be likened to a slice of atmosphere. It is necessary, life-giving, and quite often as it seems- It is apt to inspire.
