YouPoem

Poem.

Honestyinthemoment.  The sketch that contains the impulse.  The impulse that says YOUAREBEAUTIFUL when he’s standing next to you intheelevator, looking at his phone until he’s not looking at his phone, and all Life waits on someonetolivenotwatch him return your urge with a smileorsmirk that says thankyoufuckoff.  

Not choreographed.  Rehearsed.  Planned.  Theater. 

Real. Dangerous. You. 

Poem.

The spirityouwant being the spirityouare — to speak without speeching, to love without loving.  No -ings.  Only act, no neuteredgerunds, until you homeyourself, and the lifeyouare finds itself standing next to another life, sexy and real because you said “You’re beautiful” without try-ing, without plan-ing.  

YouPoem.

No end in sight, just Cosmos and onegiantchance.

What would Life be if honestyinthemoment was you?  

Poem.

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