windward

somewhere they pray imbalanced. dizzy, winding back and forth on the curb, they fall and trip and timber like wavy trees. bruised knees, laughter, gravity pulling down dark. alternating between smoke and fresh air, lungs grateful. taxi cabs, phone numbers, leaning home on friend's shoulders. keep it together. voices calling into the streets. life spilling in unrecognizable shapes, dripping from deepest wells, seeping, bleeding into the soil, it's almost like hearing someone young again. secret phrases, an engine of joy churning beneath the physical anguish and toil of suppressed years. this happy child always trying to get out, even at the cost of a colder world. i used to say that intoxication was about getting to the smile, maybe it's just the child. our cells evaporate every so often and apparently we change, yet still recall decades of memories at the speed of light. no matter the flaws of perception, the interpretation is art and sometimes so vivid our hands sweat. put to rest, dreams, headaches, bright streaks of light stabbing the day.