like a kite on fireflames and blazes flying this is me gone

Maybe a door opened or I turned, but when I smelled cedar, I was in Cuba.  Cedar has always been Cuba…if always means a decade. Maybe that’s always. Maybe that’s enough. And it’s a factory, not just any corner of that drenched and potent island. It’s the factory for Romeo y Julietta. And that’s a…

My neighbor drinks vodka. The bad stuff. Gallon jugs. Plastic. Nameless poison. She hasn’t brushed her hair all the way through since I moved here but advertises her distrust of Christians. Halfway through the night, she fights, some times, with her boyfriend. She screams at him to leave her fucking house because she fucking hates…

Sometimes we hide. Sometimes we freeze. And it’s ok. I believe in a god who stands guard while we fall apart, hands us glue, isn’t offended when we can’t use the spiritual kit of tools right away, and loves us, in pieces or whole, exactly the same but weeps for us when we reject ourselves…