Who thinks so much?
It is exhausting. Really. It can't
be normal.
Because if it were,
there would be a whole world
scribbling in forgotten languages or languages
the rest of us
are not smart enough (or wise? enough.) to
have learned.

All this pitter pattering in the back of the skull
the neurons must get tired sometime and sleep?
Or perhaps they live violently and brilliantly and just burst until they die
and that is why the thoughts never stop.

LIVEDIELIVEDIELIVEDIELIVEDIELIVEDIELIVEDIE

if you combine it (as neurons have a tendency to do, when they are bored, and need something to tame whatever madness it is that is called their purpose)

it merely becomes 'I LIVED' after awhile, given creative manipulation, perhaps some squinting.
At every deathbead this is the obvious conclusion, for however long.

And this, is quite remarkable, if you take the time to notice.

I think that,
when the music plays just right,
and the eyes catch at just that certain time,
and you sigh and I sigh with the same thought
or at least
the same breeze and glimpse of shadows bubbling over the lights
drinking fruity sangria,
and deciding which Havana poster we like best,

(we especially like the crumpled edges and the darkness seeping into the paper)

I think that,
when I notice your eyes sparkle sideways,
and you notice me noticing;

when you recognize a feeling, ebbing thru the sarcasm and the frustration,
when you see a desire to live a life that is intentional,
that is not for money or to fund the dying at the end, but is for the living now! Presently! not always
(always, always)
jumping into the future like the tails of us and the beginnings of us are on fire
enflamed in panic
and wanting so desperately to live that we forget

(the living now! Presently!)
is now.
is this.

I think that this,
makes all the tumbling and discomfort and
uprooting of roots, and other such comforts

at least intrigue.

Plot we say! And now,
and least,
there


is


beginnings to endings/(ENDINGS to beginnings?)!

mmm, whom gets to decide?