Face

The bar was quiet, even for a Monday, icy rain played November outside the window and everything is upside down. I don't even mind. She writes to say her belly grows, but still we do not dare believe in futures: how a year smokes and burns behinds us and suddenly this, as though it wasn't all destruction, as though something could start from scratch. Count the days, set new mile markers, you climb the mountain one step at a time, on foot in front of the other, that is all. I have the secrets of the Universe in my pocket, but I cannot make you see them. I will hold them here, let them tickle my fingertips until there is another palm where I can put them. I have a hundred four-leaf clovers in my back pocket, I have New York under my feet, one day I saw the answer but maybe I got confused by the sunshine in my eyes and it's just a little further still. 

I will put one foot in front of the other.

I will dance my way to the stars.