Good Morning

This is really, really meant to be performed--thus the overuse of commas.

 

Good Morning.

 

Good morning.

 

Good morning good morning good morning!

I know that the sun is setting but dawn, dawn is the time of day when destiny runs rampant.

Rumi said of dawn, the winds have secrets to tell you, don’t go back to sleep.

Don’t go back to sleep!

Destiny is sitting on the end of your bed in a blue, or red, or no, a white lace negligee nightgown. She is sitting there giving you a seductive stare from beneath lowered lashes, are you really going to settle back into sleep, into the arms of dreams?

Dreams are what Death reaps, what he sows, the very substance of souls, silly things we can’t measure so they don't matter so we don’t care.

But Destiny? Destiny is the daughter of life.

So get busy living or get busy dying,

Go back to sleep or damn it, get up here and dance with me.

…

Or if you won’t dance, I won’t demand, just sit with me.

Sit with me and we will watch the stars, skin not touching, just sweatshirts brushing as the moon turns harvest. And on the other side of the sphere the sun is rising and you will ask me what happened to me, expecting some kind of tragedy, because obviously I have scars on my eyes and wrists and shoulders, and in a car racing through the veins of this country

(all the freeways and roadways and ribbons of crumbling cement)—in this endless transition from nowhere to nowhere where the planes of your faces are covered in the gold and amber and rose kisses of dawn, the hollows of your joints filled with the last shadows—in this transition, I will tell you that it is just that I live too largely.

In this car ride with dawn, with destiny, laying over your skin like a tattoo of touches, all the fingerprints like phantoms lingering to love you one last time, in this car ride I want  a promise that you will live too large, that you will never be too afraid to leave when you must and not when you should, that you will love all you can, all you could, every soul you meet on the street, that you will pursue passions even when they push away the eyes and hands that you love.

Which is why we sit not touching, just sweatshirts brushing, in this dawn drive-by with destiny where I can count my fingerprints on your face, and you can see your kisses on my collarbone—

It is dawn, and I am leaving you n this town to lose myself in the pulse of passing from place to place, to lose myself that I might be larger than myself.

So good morning.

I left Destiny with you so you would not wake cold or alone.

Reviews

[poddar kushal]

platonic...nice...prosepoem