on Rivers

The bartender pours ice behind the fan, jerry-rigged air conditioning on a day that requires nothing of the sort: fall is alive and well in its disturbed slumber, testing its roar in little bursts and preparing for the long road ahead. I know it is still warm, I know the sun still shines but lord, how that eternal fear grips me without effort at every blustery breath. I ran along the river and felt little whirlwinds play around my ankles, heard the crinkle of dying leaves, and something within me died as well. It's only age, I feign, but the truth is it is entirely the opposite: it is as much as life.

The heart breaks and breaks and lives by breaking, I have comfort enough for a small army, this is the heart I was asked to own. The years tear you down but the life builds you up, he said I am not the same person now as the one he first met and he is right. I am a thousand pages turned, a thousand sheets folded over, twisted and turn in the dimensions, I am more complicated by the day and look how many more angles I have to understand this world, to write these words, to love knowing full well the fragility of the endeavor. I am an ocean of sorrow, but don't you ever forget, I am worlds of love and I have committed to this circus now.

I will hold out for every Spring that promises to return, I will keep folding this paper until it turns into the stars.